An Aggregation of Maladjusted Companions
by jazzyproz
Summary: Suffering from a declining solve rate following their returns to DC, Booth and Brennan are forced to attend a team-building convention. Neither of them think they need the workshops or exercises, but it's apparent to everyone around them that if they don't do something, the whole team will soon be falling apart. Can they fix their broken partnership? Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, dear readers! I must beg your forgiveness if you are a reader of 'Death, Plus One.' I know you've been waiting months and months for the next chapter… I cannot control what my inner-muse writes; JazzyMuse is quite uncontrollable and has been entirely uncooperative about what *I* want to write. **

**This story came to me recently while I was on a camping trip and I sat beside the campfire when I wrote it. Not sure how many chapters it will be, I'm still editing and finding the best places to break for chapters. I hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything… If I did, we wouldn't have been waiting almost 4 friggin' months for the end of this damn hiatus…. **

"I really think you guys are going to enjoy this," Sweets smiled enthusiastically as he handed the brochure to his favorite patients. "I was really disappointed a couple years ago that you weren't able to attend… and I could tell then, that you both regretted missing it, as well…" He grinned, his plump, unnaturally red lips were frozen in place as he waited for the partners to confirm his declaration, his wide eyes darting between the two.

"Uhh," Booth looked at the unconvincing photo pamphlet. "I don't remember being sorry…" His brow wrinkled as he cocked an eyebrow and eyed his partner. "You remember being sorry?"

Brennan refused to even read the literature. She sat on her seat, facing Sweets with a look of disdain while she crossed her arms across her chest, silently communicating her disapproval. "I have work... _A lot _of work."

Very obviously deflated at the extreme reluctance and negative vibes he was receiving from his long-time patients, Sweets huffed. "Guys," he whined, "c'mon…" He dropped his hands to the sides of his chair. "I mean, seriously, Dr. Brennan? I haven't even told you when it is! You haven't looked at the paperwork," his head dropped against the chairback where he sat.

"Sweets," Booth tossed the flier onto the coffee table and picked up the little stress ball that rested there. "We don't need that," he pointed to the discarded advertisement with one finger while the rest of his hand fisted the little exercise ball. "We're fine," he looked at his partner and received the confirmation nod he was seeking. "Me an' Bones, we're"

"_Bones and I,_ Booth," she interrupted to correct his grammar.

"Yeah," he acknowledged her correction absently. "Bones and I, we're solid. We don't need to attend one of these…" he pointed again at the discarded information with a scowl, "_conventions_." He spat out the word as if he'd swallowed a mouthful of sour milk. "Those things are," he shrugged, not able to find the description.

Brennan interrupted, her impatience at the whole situation wearing thin. "Those retreats are nothing more than an aggregation of maladjusted and dysfunctional companions in desperate need for amelioration of their inabilities to engage in mutual intercommunications and daily verbal intercourse."

"Uh, yeah," Booth looked confused, but continued to stare at Sweets as he nodded and jabbed his thumb in Brennan's general direction. "What she said…"

Sweets stared at the anthropologist, dumbfounded and silent.

Booth pondered Brennan's rant and grunted. "Umm," he leaned towards his partner, whispering out the side of his mouth in a loud, stage whisper. "_Intercourse_, Bones? Really?"

"_Verbal_ intercourse, Booth. It is nothing more than another way to say _communication_." She rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a prude."

"What?" His voice cracked a little, his masculinity taking another Brennan-hit. "I am not a prude, Bones…" His harsh whisper eked out from behind clenched teeth. "You shouldn't make assumptions about things when you have no evidence."

Sweets suddenly forgotten, Brennan turned her cerulean blues towards her partner. "Booth, I see the evidence every single time I make mention regarding the human body, human sexuality, biological urges, or anything of the sort!" Her exasperation at Sweets was manifesting itself in aggression towards her partner. "I cannot recall a single instance during the course of our career when I said the word _intercourse _or _breasts _or _sex _or anything remotely related to said topic when you didn't start lecturing me about altering my language and choice of wording." She eyed him in disbelief, unable to comprehend his inability to see his own discomfort with perfectly healthy topics of discussion.

"Bones," Booth groaned and turned slightly sideways, fanning his hands out in frustration and facing her, also ignoring the shrink in the room. "You burst out with this kinda shit at the most inopportune times. I swear, half the time I think you say stuff just to get to me! I think you enjoy making me sweat!" He swiped a hand across his face. "There are certain... _things _that you just shouldn't talk about in public, or with your _partner_."

"You're a perfectly healthy alpha-male, Booth. I would assume that you are familiar with all aspects of the human body and it's innate desires for, _and hopefully the enjoyment of_, sexual congress."

"Um, guys?" Sweets tried to interject. Unsuccessfully.

Booth leaned towards his obstinate partner, gritting his molars in anger at her apathetic attitude towards what he considered to be a sacred union, a personal and special act between two people who care deeply for one another. "I do just fine," he grunted, his tone primal and his harsh glare unyielding.

"Hey, 'scuse me…" Sweets tried again, in vain.

"You know what, Booth? I've heard you make that claim plenty of times in the past," she challenged, "but aside from Hannah, I certainly haven't met many of these supposed women with whom you '_do just fine'_… What do you do, keep them hidden away in your hall closet?" Their noses were nearly touching as she met his intensity directly.

At the mention of Hannah, Booth's nostrils flared and his eyes darkened in anger.

"Ahem!" Sweets had to practically yell his interruption to gain their attention. When two sets of equally passionate eyes turned his way, he swallowed visibly. "This kind of, um, arguing is not healthy for either of you and it can certainly be detrimental to your partnership... This is why I want you to attend the conference. There will be workshops designed to help you both deal with, and extinguish, the urges to fight and argue with each other."

"What?!" Brennan squeaked out in an uncharacteristically high pitch.

"We're not arguing," Booth countered, sitting up straighter as the familiar, albeit long-dormant overprotective alpha came to the defense of his partner and their working relationship. "We don't argue, Sweets," he growled. "We bicker... There's a difference."

"Exactly," Brennan found her strong, alto voice once again and she sat forward in her chair. "You, of all people, should recognize the fact that Booth and I never argue. And we certainly never _fight_. That is a preposterous accusation, and I find that I am insulted at your insinuation, _Doctor_ Sweets!"

Looking at the younger man in appalled ire, Booth leveled his dark eyes. "You see that, Sweets? You've insulted Bones." He leaned forward slightly. "Apologize to her. _Now_."

Sweets stared at Booth in shock and, if he was honest with himself, slight horror. The Special Agent could be downright terrifying when he wanted to be; especially when his partner was involved. The young psychologist rolled his lips between his teeth and licked them quickly.

"Well, uh, listen guys... I didn't mean to upset you," he started to direct his statement towards Brennan, but instantly swiveled his eyes back to Booth. "Neither one of you..." Determined to not give in to the intimidating demand, the much younger man straightened his back and pushed out his chest. "But you need to realize that as your therapist, it is my duty to ensure your mental well-being both on _and off_ the job. The FBI is depending on my certification that the two of you are still capable of working together after your respective sabbaticals...and the subsequent personal conflicts that occurred as the aftermath of your months apart."

Booth's glare darkened as he leveled his eyes at the man who was often more of a thorn in his side than a friend. "I wasn't on a fuckin' _sabbatical_, Sweets. I was in the goddamn desert teaching kids that are way too young to be doing that kinda shit how to do my job. And you know it." The angry Special Agent pushed to his feet. "And as far as any 'personal conflicts' that happened between Bones and me, that's none of your damn business."

"Referring to our time apart as _sabbaticals_, Dr. Sweets, indicates that we were _vacationing_ apart." Brennan felt her own jaw clench at the mention of 'personal conflicts.' Brennan was no idiot, she knew the comment was an indirect reference to Booth's short-lived whirlwind romance that followed him from Afghanistan to DC, ultimately leaving her partner angry and bitter at the world. But the Anthropologist knew they would talk when he was ready, and that if Sweets pushed the metaphorical envelope, it would definitely not end well. "The mere notion that you seem to think that I was having a vacation deep in the jungles of Maluku is proof that you have lost touch with reality. We worked from sun up to sun down, digging and sifting relentlessly while being threatened on a near daily basis by armed locals, We were never permitted to go anywhere on our own... Not even to use the latrine. We had _zero_ time to ourselves. If that is your idea of a vacation, Dr. Sweets, then I feel sorry for you..."

Interrupting her tirade, Booth sat back down carefully. "Bones, what do you mean you were threatened daily? Threatened for what? I thought that site was secure! You promised me before you went that you would be safe..."

She turned her cool eyes back to her partner, fighting back unshed tears. "And _you_ promised me that you wouldn't be a hero...But some of the stories that Hannah told me... Some of them haunted me...caused me to regurgitate my meals after imagining them over and over... I couldn't get them out of my head."

"Bones, I was never in any real danger..." He placed a gentle hand on her forearm, the most physical contact he'd initiated in weeks.

Long forgetting that they were sitting in front of their nosy shrink, Brennan turned her body towards Booth. "You were in a _war-zone,_ Booth! You were in danger the moment your plane flew into foreign skies... Hell, you were even in danger I our own friendly skies..." Brennan fisted her hands where they rested on her lap. "Being threatened is one thing... Being under fire is an entirely different matter."

"Bones-"

"No, Booth!" She pushed herself hastily to her feet, pulling her arm free from his gentle hold. "I'm sick of your double standards. You can be such a hypocrite, you know that? But somewhere, in your twisted, alpha-brain, you have rationalized it, so it feels right... You've convinced yourself that _you_ are correct and _everyone else_ around you is wrong."

Booth stood and faced her, his confusion quickly turning to anger. Before he could interrupt, she plowed on.

"Well, Mr-Gut-Feeling, this time _you_ are the one who was wrong. You thought you were doing some macho-mucky-muck by telling everyone that you were not in harm's way, while your girlfriend was telling us the truth of what you were doing on over there." She stopped trying to fight the tears, finally letting them fall freely down her pale cheeks.

Booth reached out and palmed her biceps tenderly, "Bones..."

Feeling a wave of defeat wash over her, Brennan pulled away slowly, bending over to grab her messenger bag. "You don't get to lecture me, Booth... Not any more. Not after you told me blatant lies... And certainly not after you moved on so quickly and completely..." She turned away from her partner without another word and slipped from the office.

After a moment of stunned silence, Booth turned his blackened eyes at Sweets. "This is _your _fault, Sweets," he growled and pointed a long, thick, accusatory index finger at the man. "You did this..." He spun on his heels to leave, but before he stormed out the door, he turned and pinned Sweets with a threatening glare. "Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone? Huh? Why couldn't you just let us work through it in our own time? It wasn't enough that you poked your nosy ass into our personal lives _before_ I sent her running scared into a jungle where she coulda been killed, but now you wanna fuck up what little's left? What the hell did we ever do to you to make you want to put us through hell like this?"

Feeling both hurt and enraged that the Agent had so little respect for his position in their lives, Sweets hopped to his feet immediately. "Leave 'well enough alone'? Are you…" The psychologist couldn't believe his ears, he shook his head in disbelief. "Are you _kidding_ me? I mean," he threw his hands up in disgust. "You...you can_not_ be serious, Agent Booth! If you and Dr. Brennan don't start working through your issues, you're both going to fall apart." When he saw Booth start to straighten in defense, he thrust his finger in the air, stopping him from interrupting again. "Look, your partnership is in shreds, in case you haven't noticed! You and Dr. Brennan hardly communicate anymore unless it is strictly about a case, and even then your conversations are terse and strained. The whole team is constantly walking on eggshells in fear of pissing one or the other of you off. Your solve rate has dropped by nearly fifteen percent and even though you are still successful on a respectable level, I can guarantee you that with the exception of Cullen, The Suits upstairs are gunning to split you two up." That little morsel of information certainly grabbed Booth's attention and it gave Sweets a split second to breathe. Straightening up, he smoothed down his tie. "Yeah, Cullen is the _only_ bigwig up there on your side, Booth. He believes that you and Dr. Brennan will work through your differences, but I need to convince more than just Cullen… And I can't convince them if I myself, have doubts that the two of you will be able to fix this without a little bit of intervention."

"You can't split us up, Sweets. Me and Bones, we're still solid. We'll get over this... This _slump_." Booth knew he sounded desperate, but inwardly he figured the hell with his pride at that point, he _was _desperate. The mere idea of losing his partnership with Brennan made his stomach wretch. "We have our differences, sure, but we always work through them. Always!"

"Agent Booth," Sweets felt sorry for the man that he'd considered a friend for the past several years. "She's hurting. She's hurting bad, and you can't see it." His shoulders slumped a little, suddenly feeling drained from their confrontation. "Either you _can't _see it, or you simply _won't _see it… I don't know which it is…" Turning his back to Booth, he walked back and resettled onto his chair, picking up the notepad he'd discarded to the floor when he stood up to defend his position. Ripping off the top sheet and crumpling it into a tight ball, he tossed it into the trash can in frustration. Not meeting Booth's harsh but equally frustrated gaze, Sweets continued. "Regardless of what you might think, Agent Booth, I _do _believe in you and Dr. Brennan… However, I _don't _believe that you will overcome this ever-widening gap on your own, without some sort of facilitation… I want to see you both succeed; I want to see you performing back at the top, where you were before. I just think you both need a little help, that's all. And that is all I was trying to offer." He tossed the yellow legal pad onto the coffee table and finally let his eyes meet Booth's across the now-silent distance. "But if you think you can do it alone," he waved his hand towards the door, "be my guest. Just make sure you don't scare her off for good." As an afterthought, he shrugged. "Unless, of course, your intention _is _to chase her off; in that case, in my opinion, you're on the right track."

"Go to hell, Sweets," Booth was determined he wasn't going to stand in that little pissant's office and listen to him spew off a bunch of psycho-babble-bullshit. He fixed his jaw in a firm set and turned, whipping open the door hard enough that it crashed into the wall behind it. He fished his phone out of his pocket and tried to dial Brennan, only to find himself shunted to her voicemail on the third ring, evidence that she had consciously diverted his call. "Hey, gimme a call. I need to know that you're OK, Bones." Disconnecting, he then shot her a text. _**Bones, are you OK? Want me to bring over Thai? I think we should talk.**_

By the time he reached his SUV down in the parking garage, he still hadn't had a response from her yet. Aiming for their favorite take-out restaurant, he fought the Friday night traffic for twenty minutes before reaching his destination. When he tried to call her back again, he was sent to voicemail on the second ring. Before he could text her another message, he had a reply. _**Go home, Booth. I'm not in the mood to talk.**_

Feeling defeated by his own stupid and hasty actions, Booth decided to forgo his own dinner and turned back around, making his way to the FBI gym, where he tucked into a workout routine so intense that his knuckles were raw and bloody by the time he was through with the punching bag.

B/B/B/B

By Monday morning, Booth hadn't heard from Brennan, even though he'd tried repeatedly to call her over the weekend, and his frustration had mounted exponentially, festering itself into an angry fireball that sat squarely in the middle of his gut. He grumbled as he read the latest report Charlie had left on his desk for approval and when a knock at the door interrupted the unfocused attention he was paying to the document, he growled at the intrusion.

"I assumed that non-human sound wasn't really directed towards me, Booth," Cullen's voice filled the room.

Booth's eyes darted up from his paper and his shoulders instantly squared. "Sir, no sir." He tried to mentally shake the fog that was clouding his judgment. "Sorry, sir."

"Yeah, yeah," Cullen sat down opposite his top agent and, with one sweeping glance at the man behind the desk, accurately evaluated the temperament of one of his favorite employees. From his uncharacteristically smooth hair to his boring black tie, to his battered and bruised hands, Cullen could see his young colleague was in a world of hurt. "How ya doin', Booth?"

Uncertain why his boss was checking in on him, Booth was immediately wary of the visit. "I was just going over these reports that Charlie left for me, Sir…"

"I said _how _are you doing, not _what _are you doing…" Seeing that Booth was, understandably, hesitant to open up, Cullen did what he set out to do. "It's ok. Never mind... Listen," he sat forward, "Dr. Sweets tells me that Dr. Brennan is reluctant to attend the 'Communications and Teamwork for Success Convention.' He also said that while you, too, balked at it, that you would likely be more receptive to going if given a reason to go…"

Booth's forehead wrinkled in concern, but he didn't interrupt and refused to give any credence to Sweets' claims.

"Well, here's your motivation, Booth. It would be in your best interest to convince your partner that the two of you should attend the week-long conference. I don't know exactly what happened to bring you two down, I don't want to know what happened… But I'm telling you right now, if this trend continues, if your success rate continues to drop, you're gonna be forced to actually perform the job we pay you to do, which takes place right here, behind this desk," he tilted his head. "And Dr. Brennan will once again be relegated to the lab, where Squints belong." The Deputy Director knew he was hitting below the belt, but he wanted his team back on top, and if idle threats were the way to get the job done, he was not above a little bit of white-lie blackmail. After all, Booth and Brennan's entire partnership started out with a touch of blackmail; jump starting it again with a bit of the same medicine couldn't harm anything, as far as Cullen was concerned. Deciding to sweeten the little blackmail pot, he raised an eyebrow. "Sweets also said you threatened him," he began, but was instantly cut off.

"What?! I did no such thing, the little fink," Booth argued back, not even believing what he was hearing.

"Well," Cullen could barely hold back the smirk. "He said he _felt_ threatened..." When his nonchalant shrug really started to get a rise out of Booth, he raised a hand. "Semantics, Booth. You're fighting something that you can't win..." He pinned his lead investigator with a firm glare. "You two will attend that meeting, Booth. Unless you don't want to continue to work together... So, if you want your partnership to remain in tact, I suggest you start talking to your partner today... You two'll have to leave next Friday..."

"Sir," Booth shifted in his seat. "That isn't much notice. I mean, Bones is really busy, she has several pending cases that she's working, and…"

Cullen shook his head as he rose from the chair. "Can it, Booth. If this was some major dig that would offer advancement in her career, she'd jump at the chance, wouldn't think twice about those Civil War remains waiting to be identified." He cocked an eyebrow at the younger man, waiting for a rebuttal, but none seemed forthcoming.

Knowing that his boss was telling the truth, Booth nodded and swallowed thickly. "Yes, sir. I'll talk to her."

"Keep me posted, Booth," Cullen turned to leave, but paused to glance back over his shoulder, his eyes softening ever so slightly at the obvious pain that Booth was feeling. "You know," he began thoughtfully, "if I didn't think you and your partner could recover, I wouldn't be pushing you so hard." He met Booth's eyes with honesty. "I want my top team back. I don't want to relegate you to a desk job, and I'm _sure _you don't want to tell Dr. Brennan that she can't go back out into the field."

Booth realized exactly how true Cullen's statement was when he imagined Brennan's response if he was forced to tell her she'd have to stay in the lab. Looking down at his hands where they were folded atop the small pile of folders, Booth sighed. "No sir, I don't think Bones would appreciate being forced to remain in the lab…And," he let a small chuckle escape, "I can't think of another agent on staff who'll put up with her shit."

Cullen let a smile crack his stoic expression. "I'd have to agree." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're the only one crazy enough to keep working with her after she shot you…"

Booth smiled at the memory. "Ahh, it wasn't so bad." He pushed up from his seat and grew serious. "I'll talk to Bones today, Director."

"I know." Cullen replied with the wisdom and understanding of a fatherly figure as he turned to exit the office, leaving Booth to figure out the strategy of repairing the complex fracture that had broken the best partnership in FBI history.

**Postscript A/N **

**So, anybody interested in following our favorite partners on a team building adventure? I've had to go on team-building retreats and conventions with my employer. Some have been great, offering invaluable tips and skills applicable to all aspects of life. Others...well, not so much. At any rate, I've pulled from my experiences for this little tale and added my own flair of B&amp;B fun in the mix. I hope you enjoy it. **

**Looking forward to hearing from you all. **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Welcome back! Thank you all so much for the warm and embracing acceptance to this new little tale. I appreciate all the reviews and the favorites/follows to my story. I hope you continue to enjoy.**

**Disclaimer. Nope... Still nothing... But at least they're back on the air this week! WOOHOO!**

"Well," Booth said with confidence belying his anxiety, "since you won't answer my calls, or agree to meet me at the diner, I decided to just bring lunch to you." He stalked into Limbo, finding Brennan hunched over a set of skeletal remains laid out on an examination table. He noticed her body stiffen at the intrusion to her solitude but he ignored the frustrated sigh that she didn't even try to hide.

"I'm not hungry, Booth." Her irritation was palpable. "I'm very busy. So unless we have a case…" She let her assumption fade without further explanation and eyed him knowingly.

"You gotta eat, Bones." He placed their take-out bags on an unoccupied table nearby. When he turned back to look at her, she had already resumed her position, hovering over the tannin-stained ribcage of an unfortunate unknown. He gave her a few minutes to acclimate to his presence and when he caught the glimpse of a pale blue-grey eye peek in his direction, he let her know the movement hadn't gone unnoticed. "Please?"

"Booth," she straightened again and placed her hands on the steel table, seeming to draw strength from its sturdiness. "Just because we are partners doesn't mean you need to coddle me. I eat when I am hungry. I drink when I am thirsty. I go home when I am tired. I sit when my back hurts." She was aggravated by his actions. She was _pissed _that after all those months when he didn't so much as call her for dinner, or make sure she got home safe when she worked late, he suddenly seemed to think he was the only one who could offer her sustenance or security.

"Why are you avoiding me, Bones?" He knew his partner didn't do well with indirect questions, so he cut to the chase. "You didn't return any of my calls this weekend. In fact, you _prematurely_ ended my calls, sending me to voicemail. And this morning you left you phone with Angela the in hopes that she could discourage me."

Brennan didn't want to do this. She didn't want to argue with him, especially in her lab...in her sanctuary. She didn't want to face the true hurt and regret that had riddled her metaphoric soul with holes of pain since returning from Maluku. Her plans to finally reveal her true feelings for Booth had been thwarted and shattered when he revealed a photo of the attractive blond journalist who had so obviously helped him 'move on.'

Immediately following the incident at the Hoover, she hadn't understood how he could declare his desire to spend fifty years with her in one moment, and three minutes later tell her that he had to move on, simply because she'd been unable to reciprocate the emotions he was outpouring to her. During her time away from DC, Brennan had come to the conclusion that Booth's feeble attempts to date various women before their separation had failed because he hadn't _truly_ moved on. The Anthropologist convinced herself that Booth was still interested in her romantically. That little bit of insight was what had helped her come to the final decision that when they were reunited, she would confess her desire to enter into an intimate, monogamous relationship with him.

So, to say that she was shocked to learn that her partner had 'fallen in love' with Hannah Burley so quickly was a gross understatement. The scientist didn't know how to react to the news, she didn't know how to act around Booth. And, in retrospect, it seemed that he didn't know how to act around her either.

Whenever Hannah was home, at Booth's home, he was distant, stand-offish, to the extent of being cold. He grew irritated with her _and_ her inabilities to follow pop-culture references or understand common colloquialisms, far more regularly more than ever before, and he barely acknowledged her existence unless he required her expertise or that of her team. There were moments, fleeting though they were, when he seemed to want to reconnect. On rare occasions he would appear seemingly out of nowhere and whisk her away for lunch, chase her home from the lab at midnight, or he'd call and remind her to eat dinner. But the distance between them continued to grow exponentially, despite the fact that they were physically closer than they had been while on opposite ends of the earth.

It all felt quite confusing to Brennan. During the seven months they'd been apart, she felt closer to Booth than she did when they returned and no more than fifteen miles separated them at virtually any given moment. She often wondered if she had reached out to Booth from Maluku, if only she had answered the two letters he sent, would things have changed? But then the rational scientist reminded herself that 'what ifs' were useless and never accomplished anything, so she would quickly push the thoughts out of her mind.

And yet, when Hannah hurt Booth - when the journalist did _exactly_ what Brennan had warned her against doing - Brennan was there to put the pieces back together again. She sat at the bar, side-by-side with him, ignoring the verbal jabs and short-tempered accusations. She rode in the truck, going to and from crime scenes, struggling to fall back into the routine that they'd previously perfected, only to be snapped at whenever she said or did something that Booth found inappropriate. She defended him to her friends and colleagues, making excuses for his short temper or angry responses, yet she couldn't find herself at peace with him or their work.

And through it all; through the silent tears she had shed in the privacy of her home, and the brave mask she painted on every morning before facing the world in which she existed, Dr. Temperance Brennan _pretended_ that everything was fine.

She pretended that she was satisfied with her life as it was.

She pretended to not be bothered by hurtful comments that, through the grapevine, she heard whispered about her personality and the rapidly descending success rate from which she and Booth were suffering.

But finally, she was tired of pretending.

"Booth. I can take care of myself. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work."

He watched the familiar stubborn, mulish expression set itself firmly in place, taking over the beautiful, delicate features that he adored. He pulled her food from the bag and placed it on the table along with a napkin and utensils. He then did the same to his, positioning himself so he could watch her work. Booth wasn't giving in to her dismissive tone, he knew that she was using it as a defense mechanism, and he also knew he could be just as stubborn, so he sat down.

As he picked at his now-cold fries, he studied her. He felt the stinging bite of regret in realizing that he hadn't watched her work for quite some time. Just as she felt peace when she was holed up down in Limbo with her modern stainless steel equipment overflowing with old bones, he felt a wash of calm sweep over his entire being whenever he watched her fluid movements and relaxed expression. Booth thought the compassion she demonstrated for the countless unknown souls was staggering and her dedication to finding the cause of death, victims' names and any living relatives, regardless of how many times removed, humbled Booth tremendously.

It was her work ethic, quirkiness and pure, natural beauty that had caused him to fall in love with her years ago. And it was, he suspected deep down, the reason he had subconsciously sabotaged every attempt to move on since she had turned him down on that horrible, inky night at the Hoover. And it was all still the reason he couldn't put her from his mind... He woke up thinking about her, his day was filled with random thoughts of what she might be doing and she was the last vision that flashed before his eyes as he fell asleep at night.

And the truth of it all was that he was terrified to tell her. He didn't know how to approach her and he wasn't even sure she would consider him as a viable mate. Ever. He had burned that bridge and he didn't know how to rebuild it.

After several moments studying a singular bone, Brennan moved to her computer and made an entry into a spreadsheet housed on the lab's Central Shared Drive. When she turned back, their eyes met instantly and she saw emotions that she didn't fully understand staring at her from the dark chocolate browns she had been avoiding.

When he locked in on her cool blues, he sighed. "They want to split us up, Bones. Sweets was telling the truth Friday night."

Inhaling slowly, Brennan removed her latex gloves, throwing them into the trashcan as she moved a little closer to where Booth was perched on a stool. Unsure of how Booth might feel about the pending severance of their partnership, she was uncertain of how she should feel. In that moment, as with so many others, the anthropologist wished she was as adept as Booth to reading peoples' facial expressions. She tried to rationalize the flurry of thoughts and emotions, hoping to come to an acceptable outcome. Sadly, the only solution she found was highly depressing.

"We are not as effective as we once were. It stands to reason that the FBI wants to form and nourish partnerships that are successful, and our resolution rate has fallen considerably." By then, she reached the edge of the table where Booth had laid out her food. Feeling her stomach wrench in hunger, she realized that her partner still knew her well; she had skipped dinner the night before, talked herself out of breakfast that morning so she could throw herself into her work, and now, it seemed, her body was certainly craving food. Opening her container, she couldn't help but smile at the contents. "Mmm..." She moaned quietly under her breath. "My favorite."

"I know." Booth whispered in response and looked back down at his own take-out, which, now that his partner was standing closer, seemed far more appetizing than it had just moments before.

She raised her eyes to his and smiled, a true and genuine smile. "Thank you."

He nodded his response as he tucked into his BLT sandwich and the pair continued to eat in silence for several moments, each lost in private thoughts. They stole glances at one another, neither certain how to move forward, and both terrified that their partnership was coming to an end. Finally unable to stand the silence any longer, Booth wiped his hands on a napkin and sipped his cola before speaking up.

"Bones," he waited until he was certain he had her attention. "Do you want to sever our partnership? I mean, if you do, I'll understand… Well, I'll _try_... I just need you to tell me."

Brennan tried her best to measure Booth's facial expression, wondering what he wanted. Unable to read him, and angry with herself for her inability to have learned the skills Booth seemed to innately possess, she answered as honestly as she could, without risking too much of herself.

"Booth, I know you have become more frustrated and angry with me since our return to work, so if you want to end our professional relationship, I will understand and concede to your decision." She rolled her lips between her teeth and lowered her eyes, not focusing on anything specific.

"Bones, you didn't answer my question. Do you want to stop working with me? Or... would you like to continue to work with the FBI, but perhaps with another partner?" He dreaded the answer he might hear spill from her perfectly shaped lips, but he needed the truth. He needed to know if she thought 'they' were worth the effort it was going to take to repair what they'd lost. "I mean, I think…"

"Booth..." She interrupted quietly and swallowed thickly, fighting back tears once again. Taking a shuddering breath, she braced herself for the storm. "Perhaps it would be for the best..."

His eyes skipped across her face, unsuccessfully willing her to meet his gaze. He was praying to God that he was misunderstanding her statement. "It... It would be best to just stop working together?" He thought he was going to fall off his stool and the french fries in his stomach threatened to come back up.

"If we want to salvage our friendship at all... Maybe we shouldn't work together any more." She finally met his troubled brown eyes and saw that he, too, was struggling to control his emotions. She couldn't argue against her own logic, however, and no matter how difficult it was going to be to break their professional partnership, Brennan realized that they would likely never again regain that special connection that they once had. "Booth, if science has taught me anything, it's that nothing remains stoic. The evolutionary process is non-discriminatory and is, oftentimes, cruel and unforgiving." Her body shuddered again, fighting to hold back a growing sob. "Even you told me once that I was evolving… It only stands to reason that if I was evolving into something or someone different from when we started out, then you, too, have evolved. To continue on our current trajectory would only hurt our standing reputations and... Like all business partnerships, change is inevitable. Don't…" she was terrified that she was making the wrong suggestion. "Don't you think?"

He swallowed and closed the container of food, unable to eat another bite. "Well, if that's how you feel, then..." He shrugged and continued quietly. "I mean, you're the genius here, so..." Nodding in resignation, he pushed up from the table slowly. "I'll inform Cullen today... There'll be paperwork for you to sign." He met her eyes again and felt as if his heart was being ripped from his chest. "I'll, uh, have them couriered over, so you can sign them at your convenience."

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and trailed down her pale cheek. She felt like she was losing the most important person in her life, but silently she reminded herself that she had already lost him. He pushed her too soon, she pushed back in refusal and in the end, the center had fractured. The nucleus of their little world was no longer viable, and there would be no going back.

Booth fought against every fiber in his soul to not reach out and catch the errant tear as it escaped her carefully constructed walls. He knew that ultimately, _he_ was to blame for this whole mess, and he wouldn't deny it if asked. He had broken her, he had broken _them_.

Walking over to the trashcan, he spoke quietly, his back still to her. "You were the best partner I ever had. I couldn't have asked for anyone better. Thanks for everything you ever did, Temperance," his words were choked, he couldn't bring himself to call her by his nickname for her. "I'll never forget what we had, and I know I'll never find anyone else like you again."

"Booth," she sniffed. "You'll be better off without me hindering your advancement. You will be appointed a new partner... Someone with actual skills...Someone who is worthy of calling themselves your partner." Another tear fell and she wished he would turn around. "Someone with the ability to function like a normal person."

He shook his head and tossed his uneaten lunch into the garbage can. "Nah." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned towards the door, not wanting her to see his own tears of regret that were threatening to spill. "I don't need a partner to do what I'll end up doing..." He walked towards the exit.

"You should have finished your food, Booth. You'll be hungry later." She couldn't help it, she cared for him and still wanted him to be well.

"I'll be fine," he glanced over his shoulder longingly, letting the vision of her fill his mind once more. "Don't _you _forget to stop working from time to time, so _you _eat." A sad, rueful laugh escaped. "Maybe we can get coffee sometime?" He was thinking back to the time in Sweets' office when she confessed that they would probably never even have coffee if they didn't work together, and his stomach churned.

"Booth," she stepped away from her table, moving slightly closer. "I still want to be friends... If you do, too, that is..."

"Yeah," he doubted his own abilities to be close to her without wanting more, but he knew she would never give him anything more than what she was offering him right in that moment. "Sure." He forced a smile that went no further than his lips. "We can still be friends, Temperance." He knew it was a lie, but he had to let _her_ be the one to figure that out. He promised her long ago that he wouldn't walk away from her, and he wouldn't do so permanently. She was going to have to be the one turning away in the end. "You let me know when you're ready."

She nodded, unable to speak around the painful lump in her throat, as he turned again and walked up the stairs that would take him to the exit. "You can call too, Booth... I promise not to shunt your call the voicemail..." She watched as he paused his steps for a split second before he continued on his way. "I'm sorry, Booth..." Her words were barely more than a whimper, but they were enough to reach his ears.

"Not nearly as sorry me..." He answered as he reached the door. "I'll talk to you soon." And he left, the door closing behind him in a whisper as it slid closed.

When Booth cut through the main part of the lab, Hodgins tried to get his attention. The exuberant scientist practically had to skip across the floor to catch up with the FBI Agent walking swiftly towards the door.

"Oh God, Booth, please tell me we have a case!?" He finally caught up with him, breathing a little heavier than normal. "We _need_ a case, dude. I can't take another day of babysitting these interns without real evidence to process."

Not certain that he should say anything too revealing, Booth simply shook his head. Like a brick wall, it then hit him that he would not only be losing Brennan, but he would be losing all the Squints who had become like family to him. "Nope, sorry, Jack, no case." He started to turn back to the door and paused. "Hey, thanks for everything, man. It's been great." He didn't want to leave without at least saying something. Booth knew he'd be _permitted_ to walk back into the lab at any given moment, but at the same time, he knew he couldn't do it. It would be too hard to waltz back into the familiar, cavernous space if there was nothing legitimate to bring him there. "I'll see you soon."

Jack stood there, dumbfounded at Booth's extraordinarily somber disposition. Trying desperately to process and understand what their FBI liaison was saying, he simply couldn't form a coherent thought. "Wait, what?"

Clapping the smaller man on the shoulder with an open palm, Booth thought back to Brennan's lecture of what it meant to a guy when another man did it, and it was perfect, because overall, Booth completely approved of everything that Jack had done in their time as working colleagues. "Take care."

Jack watched as Booth walked out without another word. Feeling panic rising in his chest at the implication of their brief interaction, he turned on his heel and rushed towards his wife's office. "Angie! Angela!" She wasn't in her studio, so Jack stood outside her door, scanning the lab for his slightly waddling bride. "Houston, we have a problem!"

**Postscript A/N **

**I am not ashamed to say I actually got a little choked up when I wrote this scene. I pictured it playing out in front of me, and how sad and quiet the room would have been during their conversation. I hope that I was able to relay that image to you, dear readers. **

**I continue to edit &amp; break down this ridiculously long word document into chapters...**

**Please let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you. **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	3. Chapter 3

**Welcome back, my friends! **

**Your responses to this story continue to be overwhelming and I am humbled by your kindness. I hope this chapter meets your approval. **

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anything, dammit. But it isn't for not trying. Lol. **

Angela and Cam sat wide-eyed and listened as Jack told them about his awkward conversation with Booth. Rushing to her feet, Angela pushed her way through the small gathering of interns that was hovering outside Cam's office, trying to find out what had happened to put Jack into such a frenzied state. The artist rushed to the stairwell that would take her down to Limbo, and from the moment the door slid open, she could hear it echoing into the hall. The gut-wrenching sobs from her best friend were bouncing and reverberating around the confined, hard-surfaced space. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Angela saw Brennan sitting on the floor, her knees tucked up under her chin as she tried to hug herself in consolation.

"Sweetie... Oh my God, Bren," she hurried to her friend's side and carefully lowered her pregnant body to the floor as quickly as possible, mumbling under her breath about killing Booth in a variety of painful ways. Once she was safely at ground-zero, she wrapped her arm around Brennan's shoulders, pulling her close. "Shhh..." She rocked gently. "What happened, Bren? What did he do?" Angela didn't know if she should be out hunting down Booth to castrate him out of loyalty for her best friend or simply consoling the scientist and helping her to understand what happened.

Brennan mumbled something unintelligible and continued crying, her heart-breaking whimpers filling the room.

After several moments, Angela gave up trying to translate what her friend had said, so she dipped her head lower, still keeping Brennan wrapped against her. "I'm sorry, honey, I couldn't understand what you said." Brennan's emotions seemed to be settling down, so she nudged her a little. "Can you tell me what he did?"

Brennan lifted her head from Angela's shoulder and turned her red-rimmed, puffy eyes up to the ceiling as she tried to breathe. "It..." She swallowed another choking sob. "It wasn't him, Ange... It was me."

"I don't understand, sweetie. Tell me what happened."

With a resolute nod, Brennan took a shuddering breath and told Angela about her conversation with Booth, and about how _she_, not he, was the one who suggested that they shouldn't work together. She still hadn't revealed to anyone, not even to Angela, how she'd been feeling since returning from Maluku, and she wasn't yet brave enough to admit to all the quiet nights at home crying herself to sleep. It was on the tip of her tongue to confess everything to her best friend, but somehow it felt wrong to say it to Angela while refusing to tell Booth. She knew that if anyone needed to know her true feelings, it was Booth.

Angela listened to Brennan's carefully guarded synopsis without judgement and without comment, encouraging the anthropologist to continue whenever she seemed to stall. It was obvious to the artist that her emotionally stunted bestie was in love with her partner, but she couldn't push her into admitting it; she feared that kind of pressure could backfire and leave an even bigger hole in their little world than the gaping one currently threatening to swallow the entire team. Sending a quick text upstairs to Cam, Angela demanded that she call Booth and get his ass back over to the lab. _**Now**_.

A reply was instantaneous, but it wasn't the answer Angela was hoping for.

_**Already tried calling and texting him. Hasn't called back yet.**_

Angela could feel her friend's pain and anguish, and she silently vowed to do what she could to drag the Special Agent back down to Limbo and lock the two of them in there until they ironed out their issues. The wheels turned in her bright, free-thinking mind, and she started to shift uncomfortably. "Sweetie," Brennan was leaning heavily against her side. "Do you think we can move this conversation upstairs? To your office...you know, where there's furniture to sit on?"

Suddenly realizing that her pregnant friend was down on the hard floor with her, Brennan darted upright, a shocked look on her face. "Oh, Ange!" Her attention momentarily diverted from her own sad reality, she instantly felt remorseful. "I'm so sorry." She pushed up to her feet and bent over to help her friend up. "Here, let me help you," she tucked her hands under Angela's arms and tugged, pulling the bulk of Ange's weight so she could just focus on balancing.

"Thanks," Angela rubbed her belly. "It's hard to get up and down like I used to do..."

Regretting that she was the reason Angela felt compelled to sit on the floor in the first place, Brennan wiped her wet cheeks dry. "I'm sorry Angela, I didn't even think about it when you sat down... You shouldn't have done that..."

"It's ok, honey. I don't mind." She smiled reassuringly and tucked her arm into Brennan's, tugging her towards the stairs.

"Wait, Angela, I need to put everything away." She pulled back towards her work station. "In fact... I feel better." Now she was feeling embarrassed that someone had witnessed her breakdown. "Sometimes I just need to cry. I think it's hormonal... You know..." She was lying, and she knew it, but she didn't want to talk about it anymore. The independent woman wanted to process the whole debacle on her own, she wanted to analyze and determine the best course of action. And she wanted to do it without interference.

"Brennan," Angela's voice was flat, her tone unforgiving. "You're going to come upstairs and we are going to talk. You know, _converse_? That's where you say something, and then I say something, and then we repeat that process... A lot... For a long time." She cocked an eyebrow at her stubborn friend, knowing she was now fighting an uphill battle.

"I don't have anything else to say, Ange. I've talked a lot today... I said a lot of things..." She looked down at her hands, wanting to just being alone and now wishing she'd held her emotions inside until that evening, when she could go home and deal with them more privately. _But, _she reminded herself silently_, I didn't really have a choice over the matter... It just happened_...

"Honey, that's not gonna work on me." Angela tilted her head to the side patiently. "Let Wendell come down here and pack up for you. He and Jack are just babysitting the younger interns, anyway."

Brennan eyed her work station and then swiveled her gaze to the table that still held the remainder of her lunch, quickly forgotten when Booth left. She glanced at her watch, it had been just over an hour since Booth left, and she realized that was the reason she felt so exhausted... She had been sitting on the hard floor crying and pouring out to Angela since. Looking back at her friend, she nodded.

"Ok. Would you please ask Wendell to come down and pack up for me? I think I am going to go home..." She started to remove her lab coat and walked towards the stairs, accepting Angela's arm in hers once again.

As they moved through the lab, Brennan didn't look around, she didn't notice the sea of eyes that followed her movements as everything came to a screeching halt throughout the expansive space.

"Wendell," Angela called quietly and waved him over, letting go of Brennan and watching her friend continue towards her office, as if on a very, _very_ slow autopilot. When the young man joined her, she gave him a sad smile. "Would you go down into Limbo and pack up the case that Brennan was working, save her work on the computer if she didn't already, and clean up a little bit, please?" When she received concerned agreement from her friend, she explained. "I'm going to take her home."

"Sure, Angela. I hope that everything is ok..." He shook his head sadly. "Jack told me what Booth said... I can't imagine it's as bad as it might have first seemed..."

Angela pursed her lips and watched Brennan moving around in her office, locking drawers and packing her messenger bag. "It's pretty bad, Wendell..." Her tired eyes turned back to him and blinked slowly. "I don't know if we can fix it..."

With a depressed sigh, the intern nodded and watched as his former girlfriend, now simply a dear friend, walked away. He pulled out his phone as he turned towards Limbo and contemplated whether or not he should try to call Booth. With a frustrated huff, he decided that his hockey teammate was less likely to talk to him than to anyone, so he pocketed his cell once again.

"Angela," Brennan watched her oldest friend walk in the direction of her now-darkened office. "I know you mean well, and I appreciate it more than you will ever know, but I really want to be alone." She could see the rebuttal cross the artist's features and she held a hand up. "Seriously. I just want to go lay down, have a cup of tea and maybe take a bath later. I just want to be alone."

Angela had expected that very argument, and she understood Brennan's need to process things in her own time. Reluctantly, she stepped aside, but placed her hand on Brennan's arm to turn her back around. "You have to promise me that if you feel like crying again, or need to talk...even if it's about the friggin' weather...you'll call me."

Not wanting to make a promise that would most definitely be broken when she sat in her apartment later with tears falling down her cheeks, Brennan took a deep breath. "Angela. I just need some time. And space."

"I get that, Sweetie, really I do. But I hate the idea of you sitting alone, trying to deal with all these emotions. I want to help."

"You already have helped." Brennan pasted on a fake smile and pulled her friend in for a hug - a move she was certain her pregnant friend would appreciate. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Allowing the scientist to pull away, Angela watched as Brennan made her way to the exit slowly. By trying to avoid drawing attention to herself, she actually made herself the only focal point in the lab by taking such deliberate and steady steps. Every pair of eyes within viewing distance was glued to her snail-paced movements. A collective and overwhelming feeling of despair settled like a blanket across all those present.

B/B/B/B

"Hey, Booth. Come on in," Cullen waved his Head of Crimes into the office when Booth popped his head through the door, asking for a quick meeting. His smile quickly faded when Booth moved mechanically into his office. "Did you, uh, talk to Dr. Brennan?"

"Yes, sir, that's why I'm here." Booth's face was an emotionless mask, carefully hiding the torrent of emotions flooding his body. "I have some paperwork for you."

"Ahh," Cullen incorrectly assumed that Brennan had reluctantly signed the pre-registration forms for the conference, but gave Booth hell about it, resulting his the solemn demeanor. Extending his hand, the Deputy Director accepted the manila folder Booth was handing to him. "Ok, I'll go ahead and have Charlie make the reservations-" His sentence faded as he glanced down at the form in his hand. Giving it a second scan, his eyes darted up in concern and he met Booth's hardened gaze. "What the hell is this?"

"Dr. Brennan doesn't want to be partnered with me any longer." His poker face firmly set, he pulled on all his past experiences to keep calm. "I told her I would have the forms couriered over to her at the Jeffersonian."

Cullen shook his head. "Listen, Booth, if she's _that_ opposed to attending the conference, then screw it. I'll just tell the rest of the Suits that she couldn't make it... I'll make something up. This extreme measure is not necessary."

"That isn't the case, sir." Booth inhaled sharply, wanting to get the hell out of the office, out of the building, out of the whole damn District. "The topic of the conference didn't even make it into the conversation."

"Booth..."

"You'll see there is also a request for vacation in the folder," he interrupted his boss. "I haven't taken any since I came back from Afghanistan." His tone was all business and it was crystal clear that he didn't want to discuss any more than absolutely necessary. "If I did my calculations correct, I've earned seventeen days so far this year." He sat back in his chair. "I'd like to request a week off to start, with the option to extend up to my full amount. Effective immediately."

"I think I deserve an explanation, Booth." Cullen squared his shoulders, feeling anger just below the surface. "You can't just come in here and spring this on me without reason."

"Yeah," Booth cleared his throat. "I left that part blank, for her to fill in. She's the one who made the decision." Booth set his jaw firmly, pinning his boss with a hard stare. "Maybe after you get it back, you can fill me in on the reason…"

Cullen looked down again, his eyes focusing on the scrawled signature of his top agent. "I don't really know what to say, Booth…"

"Not much to say, sir. Other than to wish me a good vacation." Booth hadn't received the approval yet, but either way, he was taking the week off, and perhaps even longer. "I left instructions with Charlie on all my open cold cases. He'll have to work with the staff at the Jeffersonian to recall the evidence in their possession, unless they agree to continue working them." He slid forward in his seat. "So, about my vacation request…"

B/B/B/B

As Brennan approached her car in the parking garage, a shiny black SUV was pulling into the guest spot that Booth usually used. She felt her heart jump a little at the idea that he had come back for her, to see her or to talk…perhaps to talk her out of her poor judgement call. When she turned towards the vehicle, however, the excitement in her chest deflated as Charlie stepped out of the truck.

"Dr. Brennan!" He waved his hand at her. "I have a package for you. Director Cullen ordered me to get it straight over to you…" He was jogging across the short distance between them. "I'm glad I caught you before you left." He handed her a package and an Acknowledgement of Receipt signature slip. The Junior Agent tried not to stare at Brennan's red, blotchy cheeks and swollen eyes. He didn't know exactly what he was delivering, but he knew his boss left a stack of shit on his desk covered with yellow sticky-notes and locked his office door shortly before Charlie was summoned by Cullen and given the confidential envelope to hand-deliver. "He said to tell you there is no rush. Whatever is in there should be reviewed and considered carefully, and completed in full before returning it. If you don't want to run it over to us, give me a call and I'll come pick it up. That instruction is directly from Cullen."

Slipping the envelope into her messenger bag, Brennan nodded silently and turned back towards her own parking space. "Thank you, Agent Burns." Her response was small and timid, nearly swallowed by the cavernous white-noise of the garage.

"You're welcome, Doc." Charlie watched as she slipped into her little sports-car and started the engine. Before she backed out of her space, he saw her wipe the back of her hand across her cheek, and he felt his heart break for the woman that had always been a rock in the face of danger. He still didn't know what the hell was going on, but whatever it was needed to get better… He felt like his world was tilting to the left...and he didn't like it.

B/B/B/B

Booth practically ransacked his room, pulling out only the bare minimum of what he would need and hastily shoving the items into a duffle bag. He changed the outgoing voice mail message on his phone, ignoring and deleting the repeated pleas from Cam to call her back, then he promptly turned the power off, tossing it into the bag as well. Once his apartment was locked up tight, he stalked down the hallway to the stairs, opting to burn a little energy rather than wait for the elevator. The faster he could get the hell out of DC, effectively taking him away from her, the better.

He merged onto the expressway just before rush hour, which suited him fine, he would beat the traffic. Setting the cruise control at seventy miles per hour, he cranked up the volume on his radio, letting classic rock fill the air in attempts to drown out the visions and thoughts of his partner and her woeful, tear-filled eyes that watched him accept her logic to their fate as partners and friends, and them walk away from her.

And the further away he got, the worse he felt about his own fate. But that, too, was shoved down deep as a guitar wailed and a strong bass beat drove him further North.

B/B/B/B

Brennan sat in her living room feeling uncommonly lost. She held the manila envelope on her lap, still unopened, and she stared at it until she lost focus and she was simply staring at a yellow blotch of color against her dark blue work slacks. She lost all sense of time, and it wasn't until the envelope slipped from her fingers and the metal clasp clicked on the hardwood floor that she came back to awareness. Glancing up at the clock, she was shocked to see that it was nearly eight o'clock. While lost deep in thought, the scientist realized the grave error she had made, and felt panic rising in her body.

She needed to talk to Booth. She needed to talk to him NOW.

Picking up her cell from the coffee table, she pressed Speed Dial One and waited. The lump in her throat tripled in size when she heard the clipped greeting.

**You've reached Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI. If this is an emergency, please hang up and call 9-1-1. If you are calling with information that pertains to an open investigation, please contact your local FBI office for further instructions. This voicemail will be unmonitored for an undetermined amount of time, please do not leave specific requests or time sensitive details on this message. Thank you. **

Brennan pulled her phone from her ear and stared at it accusingly, as if _**it**_ was the reason she couldn't speak to her partner. Putting it back to her ear, she left a message. "Booth. It's me. Please call me."

Disconnecting, she then dialed his house number and listened while it rang four, five, six times. His answer machine was set to pick up on the third ring, and by the tenth ring, the scientist knew Booth had unplugged his phone. Running to her bedroom, she quickly changed clothes, throwing on a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. When she went back out into her living room, she thrust the envelope into her messenger bag again and headed out the door, trying to get through to his cell phone again, with no better luck than the first time.

She huffed in frustration when she saw that his truck wasn't parked in his typical space outside the apartment building. That didn't stop her, however, from taking two stairs at a time up to his floor and pounding on his door.

"Booth! It's me, open up!" She banged until her hand stung. Mrs. Holmes from down the hall poked her head out of her apartment wondering what was happening.

"Oh," she smiled when she saw who was making all the noise. "You missed him, Dr. Brennan." She stepped out into the hall, eager to help the woman who she admired greatly. "He left already. Seemed to be in a hurry," the elderly woman gave a conspiratory grin. "I figured you two were heading into an undercover deal... He had his bag with him."

The feeling of dread washed over Brennan's body. "He left..."

"Were you supposed to meet him, dear?"

"What time did he leave, Mrs. Holmes? Do you recall?"

"It was a couple hours ago, maybe a little more." She looked on as Brennan started digging through the bag strapped across her body. Seeing the desperation on Brennan's pale features, the older woman felt her heart go out. "You aren't going undercover, are you." It was more of a statement than a question, and an answer was unnecessary.

Pulling a key ring from the depths of her bag, she just glanced quietly up at the friendly neighbor. "Thank you for the information, Mrs. Holmes." She inserted the key into Booth's door and fought with the knob, wiggling it until the sticky deadbolt finally slid open. "If you'll excuse me..." She didn't wait for a reply, she simply pushed into the apartment and slammed the door closed, leaning back against it and inhaling deeply.

Instantly she was surrounded by Booth... His scent, his masculinity, his personal possessions. She suddenly couldn't imagine working with someone who didn't smell like Booth. There was comfort and security in the way his unique pheromones mixed with his cologne, and Brennan knew she needed that reassurance. She needed to be around him, and now she was terrified that she had driven him away permanently.

Shoving off the door, she walked down the short entry hall and entered his living room, looking aimlessly for anything that might indicate where he had gone in such a rush. Not finding anything, she ventured down the hallway and entered his bedroom silently. To say she was surprised at the disheveled state of the room would be a gross understatement. She had been in Booth's room before and she knew he kept a neat and tidy space. But what she saw before her was disturbing. Drawers were not closed, the closet door remained ajar and partially folded clothes that likely didn't fit into his bag were left behind, carelessly tossed on the bed.

Knowing she would find nothing telltale, she turned and walked back towards the front of the apartment. She went to his hidden wall safe and opened it up, taking inventory of what remained. Most importantly, his passport was still there, so he wasn't going out of the country. His weapon, extra magazine, badge and wallet were gone, which was no surprise. With a sudden epiphany, she slammed the safe closed and ran to the kitchen. Rushing over to the brightly colored vintage Frigidaire, she yanked open the freezer and stared at the empty space where the Tupperware container should have been stowed.

"Shit!" She shoved the door closed with a grunt and pounded her fist against the cool metal. "Dammit, Booth!" She yelled into the empty apartment and pulled her phone out. Logging into her partner's online bank account, she noted the recent charges, which told her the direction he was obviously traveling, and she knew she was right to be concerned. "Don't do it," she grumbled uselessly and she logged off and hurried back down the entry hall.

Making sure she locked the door securely, she trotted down the stairwell and into the night, hoping that she wouldn't be too late. With a failed last ditch effort to reach Booth by phone, Brennan sped through the darkened streets, aiming for the freeway that would take her north. The whole time, she was reprimanding herself for not thinking before speaking earlier when he had come to her at the lab... Perhaps if she had just kept her mouth shut, she would be sitting at Founding Fathers having a drink with Booth instead of racing off on her own in a feeble, and a very-likely-to-fail attempt to find him and save him from himself.

**Postscript A/N**

**I hope this was an ok chapter for you all. Please let me know! **

**I must ask, if you wish to engage me in a conversation regarding the story, my views or opinions, please sign in when you leave a review. If you don't sign in, I can't respond through the review system. **

**And in response to one particular review that seemed to question my opinion on how their relationship failed and who was to blame, yes, I *do* lay *most* of the blame on Booth and his poorly timed judgement to push Brennan when he should have recognized that she would push back. While Brennan certainly was not blameless in the whole mess, she held true to her personality and panicked when faced with the possibility of a change in their relationship. I know that not everyone has the same opinion, and since we don't know what happened 'off the air' or on their 'free time', this is just one possible take of how things may have unfolded. since I couldn't respond on the review system, I thought I should have the chance to explain and defend the reason I write the things I do. **

**Thanks for listening**

**peace &amp; love, my friends,**

**~ jazzy**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N. Hello! I promise, the angst is *almost* over... I hope... You all know how unpredictable JazzyMuse can be...**

**Disclaimer: Still own nothing, nada, zip, zilch. It's so unfair...**

It was nearly one am by the time Brennan arrived at her destination. She never realized how many similar black SUVs rammed the roads until she was winding up and down the narrow parking lots of Atlantic City looking for her partner's. She was pissed that he hadn't called her back. She was even more angry that he had apparently disabled the tracking device in his truck, because she couldn't ping the vehicle from her cell phone app. If he would just turn on his phone and see her texts or listen to his messages, she would get a bounce back alert on her end, which would direct her to him. But it seemed that he wasn't interested in being found, which gutted her on a deeper level than she expected.

She drove aimlessly for almost twenty minutes before she came to the conclusion that she needed a better plan. Finding an empty space, she pulled in and shifted her car into Park. Her car sat idling while she pondered her next move. She could go up and down the strip, in and out of each and every casino in hopes of finding him, but that would be a long and tedious task, and most definitely not beneficial. After checking Booth's online banking again, she grunted in disapproval that he had apparently stopped using his card once he filled up with gas. She was thankful that he hadn't cancelled her access to his account, because she at least felt confident that she was on the right track in coming to the notorious town, but her knowledge of the Jersey shore was limited, and it frustrated her that she didn't know enough to figure out where he would have gone.

Taking a moment to think, she tried to metaphorically put herself into Booth's shoes. What would he do first? Reserve a room or go into a casino? Surely he would go into a casino before securing a room, because his whole presence there would be impulse, initially he wouldn't care about a place to sleep.

Of course, he had a few hours' head-start, so it was entirely possible that he was already in a room, fast asleep. She narrowed her eyes at the hotel across the parking lot from her, instinctively knowing that a place like that would be too ritzy for Booth's liking... Which meant the casino would probably also be too high-end. He would lean towards a place that, perhaps, wasn't quite so loaded in favor of the House... He would go to an older establishment... One that had been around for a while... One in which he would blend in….where he'd be unrecognizable and virtually invisible against the crowd. She needed to head towards the far end of the famous Boardwalk, down where the locals, or at least local visitors, would be more likely to frequent. Backing out of her spot, she felt a renewed energy and headed in the opposite direction than where she'd been searching.

Fifteen minutes later, the determined scientist was slamming on her brakes when she saw his truck. Yes, she had seen dozens of similar SUVs on her quest that night, but this one, she was certain, was his. She pulled into the poorly lit lot and wound her way over to the vehicle of her focus. Sure enough, it was an FBI standard-issue Toyota SUV with a little knick on the back bumper where her field forensics case had rubbed time and again as she pulled it out at crime scenes.

She found a spot close by and parked her own car, ensuring it was locked before heading into the closest hotel lobby. Approaching the reception desk, she readied to address the young man behind the counter when her phone suddenly beeped. The typically unfazed scientist actually jumped, her phone had been silent for so long, the loud alert startled her. Stepping out of line, she checked the incoming text. Her heart fluttered when she saw that the alerts were actually pings from Booth. He had opened his messages that she sent, and that meant she could triangulate his location using the application Angela provided for her years earlier. Quickly, she activated the app and received a location ping almost immediately, which meant he was close. She was too worried to congratulate herself on knowing her partner so well that she nearly pinpointed his location, but it was definitely something she would revisit on another day.

Following the blinking dot on her phone screen, she found herself in the hotel's smoky and over-crowded casino. She was slightly surprised at the volume of people in the room, given the late hour, but tried not to focus on the patrons too closely. She reminded herself that she was not there for a study in anthropology, she was there to find her partner.

Instinct pushed her over towards the Blackjack and Craps tables, but the ping on her phone indicated that she was going the wrong direction. Doing an about-face, she followed the little signal towards the slot machines and she nearly argued with her phone that her partner would not waste time sitting at a slot machine, but then her eyes were drawn to the wall of windows and glass doors that led out onto the famous Boardwalk.

That's when she saw him.

Sitting with his back towards the building, he was on the far side of the boardwalk, his legs dangling off the edge and his arms and chin resting on the lowest crossbar of the handrail. He was looking out over the darkened beach as it disappeared into the inky waters of the Atlantic. On one side of him was a bottle that she correctly assumed was beer, and on the other side was the Tupperware container that she had been looking for.

Without a word, Brennan approached her partner and sat down beside him, moving the empty bottle out of the way. She slipped her legs over the edge and mirrored his position with her arms and chin resting on the railing. Silently, she watched the glowing outline of a cruise ship way off in the distance; it was the only thing distinguishing the darkened horizon where the ocean ended and the sky began.

After several long moments, he broke the silence, speaking quietly. "That was fast."

She turned her head and studied his profile, noting, not for the first time, how handsome he was. "You checked your messages." She matched his low volume. "When you did that, I was able to locate your phone using Angela's application."

"Yeah. I figured. But I only turned my phone on about ten minutes ago. I know you didn't make it here from DC in only ten minutes." Finally he turned to look at her, struck momentarily speechless the pure beauty of her make-up free face. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "How'd you find me?" He wasn't entirely uncertain that somewhere in his subconscious he had purposely turned on his phone, knowing it would lead her to his side...but he didn't want to think about that just then, he wanted to just get their conversation over.

"I went to your apartment..." She worried that he was going to be angry with her for invading his privacy after she had basically dismissed him from the lab. Trying to determine how to best explain her thought process, she stalled.

"Well," he was already frustrated. If there was one thing he didn't need, it was a conversation with _Cryptic-Brennan_… He just wanted a damn answer. "Unless there was a squatter that moved in there after I left, I assume the apartment was empty."

Turning in alarm, she shook her head. "There was no squatter, Booth, it was empty." Seeing his eyes roll as he turned back to face the ocean, she realized she had been too literal, as usual. "You were being sarcastic... I'm sorry."

"Just tell me how the hell you knew I was here." He didn't look at her again, just stared out at the beach, watching a couple in the distance walking hand-in-hand, taunting him with their happiness.

"Your container was gone... And..." Now she had to confess to her own unorthodox methods of tracking him down. "I looked at your online banking and saw that you filled up with gas on the northbound rest stop..."

Turning his hard eyes to her, he couldn't decide whether to be impressed that she had used her own resources to deduce his location or tell her off for invading his privacy. "You know way too much shit about me..." He looked back at the ocean. "I'll have to change my locks and my online passwords now..."

"Booth... I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know how else to find you."

"You shouldn't have come looking."

"I was hoping to catch you in time..."

He said nothing, just kept staring out at the water and blindly handed her the plastic container from his side.

Brennan accepted the outstretched offering and was surprised at the weight of it. Cracking the lid and peeking inside, she was surprised at what she found. Her pale eyes lifted to him again, finding him watching her.

"They haven't thawed out yet..." He fixed his jaw determinedly as he met her gaze. "Deal is, I can't spend anything until _all _of them have thawed..." He turned away from her again.

"And we used a bigger container than your old one when we froze them last time."

"Yep."

She pressed the lid closed, sealing in his partially-frozen credit cards once again. It had been nearly two years since Brennan helped Booth over a hiccup-sized challenge when he wanted to lose himself gambling again. It had been after a particularly difficult case involving an abusive father and the unfortunate outcome of one of his drunken rampages, which resulted in the death of two of his three children. At that time, Booth had confessed to his partner that one of the purposely placed obstacles he used to manage his gambling habits was to freeze his credit cards. Literally.

He would take a one-quart container, the kind he'd get whenever he bought take-out soup from the neighborhood corner Chinese restaurant, and he would freeze it half full of water. Once it was frozen solid, he would place his emergency credit cards inside and fill it the rest of the way with water, sealing the cards until he needed them. If he wanted to make a large purchase, he had to seriously consider the necessity of the purchase before spending the money, because it involved thawing out the container. This, he learned, had been an excellent deterrent to gambling because by the time the ice would thaw enough to extract the cards, the overwhelming urge to gamble would typically be dulled down to a familiar, quiet hum. He was used to the constant undercurrent of his gambling addiction and had learned to manage it in his own way on a daily basis, as unorthodox as it may seem to someone from the outside looking in on his life.

But Brennan had never criticized his method or ridiculed him in any way. She had been impressed by his inventive, and obviously effective, practice. When, after the grueling case had finally come to an end, and he was refusing to answer her calls, she found him at home alone, staring at a melting quart of ice, and they talked through his dark mindset and re-froze the cards in a larger container. His promise to both himself and to her was that he wouldn't spend anything until he could get all three of his cards out of their frozen safe, even if one was loose enough to extract, he would wait until everything had thawed.

And thus was the case on this moonlit evening on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. One card was thawed enough to pull from the container, but the other two were not yet, so all three remained sealed inside. Brennan held onto the container, brushing the condensation down the sides and letting the droplets fall onto the sand far below their dangling feet.

"You shouldn't have come." Booth was avoiding her eyes again, looking up at the moon instead.

"I wanted to help. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I don't need your help, Temperance." He opened his hand, silently asking for his container back, and she reluctantly returned it to his wide palm, feeling the sting of her given name as he said it. Pushing back from the edge, Booth stood to his full height, shoving a hand into his pocket. "This is who I am..."

Not understanding what he meant, she shifted and turned, getting her feet beneath her so she could stand as well. She felt confused and angry, unappreciated and determined. "That," she jutted her hand towards the glass windows looking in at the casino, "is _not_ who you are, Booth!" She pinched her lips closed and huffed a sharp breath from her nose. "You are better than that! You've beat it. Time and again, I've seen you overcome that demon."

Pissed that she would dare pass judgement over him, he invaded her personal space, going nose to nose with her. "No, Bones," his instinct overrode his desire to forget her nickname. "That is _exactly_ who I am. And I am _done_ changing for people. I am done!" He spat the words at her and started to turn away, but she grabbed the container from his unsuspecting hand and stepped back from him.

Turning back in disbelief, he reached unsuccessfully for the Tupperware. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He growled at her and started towards her, backing her against the railing in three swift steps.

She moved the container behind her, gripping it with both hands and refusing to give it to him; refusing to let him ruin all the years of hard work. "No. I will not give it back to you, Booth!" She yelled, not caring who might hear. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with _you_ that you want to ruin everything...everything you worked for, everything you've built."

"I told you, I'm done. I'm going back to being me. _Just me! _ A fucking local from Philly who likes to try his luck at the tables. And if I lose," he shrugged, "too fucking bad." He tried reaching around her, but she spun on her heel and put her back to him, hugging the jar against her abdomen in protection. "I told you, I'm done. Now give me the Goddamn cards, Temperance."

"Done with what, Booth?" She was grunting through her teeth, wanting an answer and demanding an explanation. "What _exactly_ are you _done_ doing? Because it sure as hell looks to me like you're not done fucking up your life! Not if you're planning to go in there and waste your money!" She didn't typically resort to swearing, but her partner made her so mad sometimes, she just couldn't help it.

Backing away and staring at the back of her head, his brow wrinkled. He leaned in and spoke quietly, darkly, against her hair, "I'm done changing for the women in my life, Bones."

She shivered at the threatening tone of his voice and her shoulders slumped in surprise at his response. She turned in stunned silence, coming to face him nose-to-nose once again. "What?" Her voice was softer now, needing an explanation.

"You heard me." He was angry and he pinned her with a hard stare. "The women in my life... The ones who I've changed for... They don't want me anyhow, not matter what I do. So I'm through changing, and I'm just gonna be me. For the first time since I can remember, I'm just gonna do what _I_ want to do, without worrying about what someone else will think."

Honestly at a loss, Brennan tilted her head slightly. "I don't understand." It was as truthful and open as she could possibly be.

Stepping back a half-step, Booth stood upright, inwardly regretting how he had hunched over her, invaded into her security. Realizing that she was looking for clarification, he nodded once. "For Rebecca, I tried to be the responsible adult...wanted her to marry me so we could raise our kid as a family... But I wasn't good enough. For Tessa, it didn't matter how many nights we spent together, my schedule was a hindrance and inconvenient. Cam and I ended up better off as friends than lovers... Because I'm _'friend material'_. For Hannah, I tried to be the fun-loving, happy-go-lucky man she wanted... And even when I played that role, I wasn't worth it to her..." He pulled further away, putting more distance between them, debating whether or not to even lump her in with the rest. "And you." Yep, he was gonna do it. "I quit gambling for you. Worked harder than ever at my job so you and I could be successful. Starting watching the freakin' Discovery channel in the wee hours when I couldn't sleep, for Christ's sake... Kept hoping one day that _we_ could go somewhere, you and me...that our partnership was merely a stepping stone for the relationship that we could have." He shook his head and waved one arm out to the side, pointing at nothing. "But hell, you don't even want to be my partner anymore. This partnership was just something you could throw out with your garbage... Our _partnership _wasn't a stepping stone to anywhere... _I_ was a stepping stone for _you_."

Shocked at his frame of mind and frightened that she would say the wrong thing, she stood there dumbly, opening and closing her mouth as she tried to think of a way to fix this.

Accepting her silence as a confession, he puffed out a pitiful, disbelieving laugh. "That's what I thought." He reached out and removed his Tupperware container from her now-lax hands and turned away. "Can't believe it took me so long to figure out..." He cracked open the lid near a trash can and fished into the cold water, extracting a chunk of ice. Defying his own rule of waiting for all three cards to thaw, he pounded the ice once against the side of the can and it shattered, releasing its grip on the cards and he dried them on his pants.

Shaken from her stupor, Brennan spoke, her voice was trembling and thick with emotion. "That's not true, Booth." She sidled up alongside him and gently reached out and covered his hand as he squared up his credit cards.

Tired of fighting, tired of playing guessing games with her, he just looked into her pleading eyes. "Which part isn't true, Bones? The part where none of the women in my life really give a shit about me? Or the part where you used me?"

"All of it, Booth." When she saw his hackles go up in defense, she amended her argument.

"Ok, wait. I can't speak for anyone else, but I can certainly speak for myself. And I can tell you what I've witnessed with those other women, and what it all means to me."

"You forget, you're not exactly a people-person, y'know..."

"No, but I _am_ an anthropologist. And my primary field of study is _human_ anthropology, which is the study of humans... And as an anthropologist, it's my job to interpret the meanings, albeit sometimes hidden or obscure meanings, behind those activities or actions that I observe." She raised her chin, feeling a sense of confidence wash over her as she discussed that with which she was comfortable. "Those women are humans. And I've studied them... _and_ I have an interpretation, a theory if you will, that I think you should hear."

"Oh, this should be good," he grumbled under his breath as he pulled his hand from beneath hers, but losing his cards to her surprisingly quick and strong grip. He was in no mood for a lecture or one of her squinty lessons, but if it would get her out of his hair, he would listen...Stubbornly...under duress and against his better judgement. But he'd listen. "Ok, let's have it."

"Can we go inside and sit?" She pointed to a small cafe that was still open, despite the late hour.

"Nope."

Not expecting such a terse answer, she frowned, causing the familiar 'v' to form between her brows.

Booth refused to go anywhere that would give her the upper hand, even if it was just a coffee joint selling piss-warm tasteless coffee at two o'clock in the morning. "This is where you found me... This is where you planned to 'save me from myself,' so this," he pointed to the boards below, "is where we're gonna do _this_," he motioned between the two of them. He planted his feet firmly at shoulders width, crossed his arms over his chest and waited. "Or we don't do this at all."

"Fine." She turned her dainty little nose up and spun on her heel. Stalking back over to the side of the boardwalk, she sat down, once again dangling her feet over the edge.

Unsure if she meant '_fine, we do this out here_,' or '_fine, we don't do this at all_,' Booth stood there for a moment, staring at the back of her head, watching the breeze whip the loose strands from her ponytail around her neck. His eyes traveled down the straight line of her back as she sat rigidly, her hands folded on her lap. Reasoning that he couldn't do anything without his cards anyway, he sighed and sauntered over to where she sat. With a quick roll of his eyes towards the heavens, he plopped down next to her, also letting his feet hang over the side.

Brennan's lips were tight as she contemplated the best way to go about explaining her thoughts.

After several silent moments in which the pair simply sat side-by-side, staring out over the beach, Booth broke the silence, speaking softly, almost apologetically. "I'm listening, Bones."

**Postscript A/N**

**Well, Brennan has some coming clean to do and Booth has some confessions of his own to make... Let's just hope they can iron everything out in the next chapter, huh?**

**Thank you for all your support and the thoughtful reviews. I appreciate all of you. **

**peace and love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N. Hello and welcome back! Thank you all for your continued support and encouragement with this little tale! Your follows, favorites and especially reviews keep JazzyMuse busy editing the chapters and proof-reading in order to post as quickly as possible. I hope you continue to enjoy.**

**Disclaimer... *sigh* Really? I need to do this every time? I own nothing, otherwise this show would be on a network where we could see more skin and a LOT more B&amp;B lovin'!**

She took a deep breath and turned to make eye contact, but Booth was not looking at her. "First," she began, speaking just as softly as he, "I would like to say that I am sorry that you are feeling so..." she searched for the right word, "inadequate, Booth. It hurts me when you are in pain, especially when your struggle is driven by things over which you have no control." She was startled when his head whipped around and met her eyes, his deep browns revealing his surprise at her declaration. She dared not get distracted by his handsome features, so she looked at her own hands where they still rested on her lap. "I know that you are a great deal better at reading people, but I _do_ have what I feel is a well-formed opinion regarding the emotions you just revealed to me..."

Taking a shaky breath, she plowed on.

"Rebecca knew that you were trying to do the right thing, but her need for independence interfered with her decision when you asked her to marry. It was nothing that you did, right or wrong, she made her own decision... And, after a time, she regretted her decision, but recognized that the two of you had missed your moment." She looked at him again, seeing doubt and anguish behind his carefully guarded mask. "She told me, Booth. She confessed that very thing to me one day when I saw her in the hall of the Hoover. I had hoped she would have told you the same thing, but it seems now that she didn't... Or, if she did, she either didn't make it clear or you refused to believe her. Nevertheless, I'm sorry that you're still feeling hurt over that situation." She tilted her head as he turned back to look at the ocean. "But, you have an amicable relationship now, and you share custody of Parker... And he loves you so much, Booth. He adores you."

"Yeah... He's a good kid. Not," he wanted to explain his statement. "Not because he loves me, that's not what I mean... He's just a good kid, y'know?"

She watched as a peaceful expression settled across his face at the thoughts of his son, it was the first smile she had seen from him since she agreed to eat lunch earlier that day, just before she hurt him again.

"Yes. He is a bright and enjoyable child. You should be very proud."

Appreciating her praise, because he knew she wouldn't have said it if she didn't mean it, he nodded once. "Thanks."

"Now," she knew she had to get through this conversation relatively quickly. "As far as my opinion of Tessa, and reflecting back to your relationship with her... She was a pleasant enough person, but given her overwhelming insecurities with herself, she was not a good match for you. You need a woman who is sure of herself, someone who is not intimated by others and not afraid to stand up to you when you're having a bad day..."

"Wait," he held a hand out, "rewind. What insecurities?"

"Oh, well..." remembering back to what Angela had told her when the artist was sticking her metaphorical nose where it didn't belong, Brennan realized that she would need to explain how she had come to her conclusion. "She tended to eat fat free bran muffins and low fat lattes, though she certainly didn't need to cut calories... If anything, her body weight was probably borderlining just on the edge of unhealthy and she should have been _increasing_ her caloric intake. And she was always reading about unsolved FBI cases, as if to impress you with her knowledge of your line of work. And when it came time for the two of you to go away, she was the one who backed out... Not you. You were looking forward to the vacation and your time away with her... But she made up an excuse that you later learned was just that... An excuse to get out of going away." She eyed him carefully, waiting for an explosion that never came. "So, she was insecure about herself and about her place in your life. That is no fault of yours. That is all on her."

Booth inhaled sharply. Hearing his relationships summed up so concisely from an outside point of view was eye-opening, and if he was honest with himself, quite disturbing. And it was a lot to process. He chewed on the inside of his cheek waiting for her to continue. He didn't have to wait long.

"You, yourself said that Cam is a better friend than a lover, and in my opinion, you should be grateful to have someone like her as a friend. She is a loyal and dedicated person to those she deems worthy. And from what I have witnessed, she deems you the worthiest member of our little team."

That brought a smile to his face again as he thought back over the many conversations he and Cam had shared, and he realized that Brennan hit the nail on the head with that particular assessment.

"And Hannah..." She interrupted his musings. It still pained Brennan to even speak the woman's name and she felt her partner's posture stiffen as she said it. There was so much she could say about Booth's relationship with Hannah, so many things she wanted to tell him. Innately, however, she knew this was neither the time nor the place to speak most of her mind; that would come later… If they had a '_later_'. "She, too, is very independent and while I know the truth hurts, she _did_ tell you that she wasn't interested in getting married. She tried to warn you, Booth. But you didn't listen."

When he took a breath to defend his position, she held up a finger. "No, let me speak. You agreed to listen." When she received a stiff nod, she proceeded. "I think that your relationship with Hannah was born out of a need to cope with the war, and your recent deployment, and the fact that you were missing home. And...because I had hurt you." Her eyes were downcast in embarrassment and shame that she couldn't take back the one action that had been the ultimate catalyst to their respective departures.

He could hear the pain in her words as she finally spoke the words aloud, acknowledging the fact that she had caused him pain - regardless that it was unintentional, it was still something that she had never voiced to him directly. He reached over and knuckled her chin so she would look at him, feeling guilty when she flinched at his movements before acquiescing to his silent request. He met her pale gaze once more and saw all the torment and sorrow that he felt reflected back at him. "Bones..." Even though he was angry with her, when it came right down to it, he could never stay permanently mad; that fact became abundantly clear as he sat beside her, listening to her awkward attempts to make him feel better about himself.

"It's true. I know it is." She took a slow, thick swallow. "And Hannah knew, too." When she saw that he processed the understanding that she knew something he didn't, she continued. "She called me."

His hand fell away from her face. "I know, you told me. That's how you came to find me at the bar."

"No," she brushed a stray piece of hair from her eye as she shook her head gently. "After that. She called me to make sure that you were doing alright... Weeks later... And while we spoke, she told me that she had finally figured out who it was you were running from when she met you in Afghanistan. She knew that I was the one you were trying to get over."

"I never told her anything about us, Bones." He didn't want her thinking he had betrayed his own desire to keep what was theirs, theirs alone.

"I know. I knew you didn't say anything as soon as she said she _figured_ it out." Taking a chance, she reached over and placed her hand on his forearm. "Hannah cared about you a great deal. She just couldn't marry you. You must understand that it wasn't your fault, Booth. She told me that you would blame yourself, and I agreed with her, knowing you better than I know anyone. But you must stop blaming yourself."

He turned away from her drilling eyes, needing a breather from the intensity of the conversation, but at the same time, needing to finish it more than anything. "What about... What about _you_, Bones?"

She swallowed slowly, feeling a touch of nausea sweep over her body at the memory of their failed session with Sweets that led them to the steps of the Hoover on that fateful night. She stared out at the ocean again, dreading the rejection that was sure to follow her long-overdue confession.

"You have nothing to say about yourself?" He assumed she didn't want to answer. "Is it too difficult for you to step back and look at yourself objectively, the way you observed my other relationships?"

Turning back to him, suddenly clear-eyed and determined, she sniffed, catching a tendril of his cologne on the breeze. "Yes." She had things to say... "I mean, no... It's not too difficult for me to step back and analyze my own actions, but it _is_ difficult for me to put my findings into words."

"Well, you didn't seem to have any issues breaking down everyone else..."

She nodded, knowing he was right, but still apprehensive about putting her feelings into words. Not quite ready to address it fully, she hoped she would be able to beat around the bush, as she had heard Angela say once. "You asked me something at the lab this afternoon..." Looking back at him, she swallowed. "You asked me if I _wanted_ to break our partnership... If I wanted to keep working with the FBI but with another partner..."

Feeling what little hope he had built up draining from his system, Booth took a deep breath. "Yeah."

"I don't want to work with another agent." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but her words were plenty loud enough for Booth to hear. "I told you that years ago and it remains to be true. You're the only FBI Agent I wish to work with. And to answer your primary question," she let her eyes roam across his handsomely chiseled features, feeling her empty stomach churning uncomfortably. She took another deep breath. "To answer your question, no, I do not want to sever our partnership… But, I received an envelope from the FBI before I left the lab today, and I can only assume it contains the paperwork that you completed in order to sever our working relationship... So, if that is what you want, then I will not argue…"

Booth looked at her in disbelief. "What _I_ want? Hell no, Bones, that's _not_ what I want." He turned sideways, pulling one leg up onto the well-worn boards where they sat, and tucked it beneath his other, still-dangling, leg. "I don't want that at all. You're the only partner I want, Bones. I can't imagine working with anyone else…" His eyes twinkled with a fresh feeling of calm and one side of his mouth curled up slightly. "I would hate my job if it weren't for you, Temperance."

His use of her first name that time was pleasant, there was no strain or harshness in his voice. Wanting to clean the metaphorical slate, but unable to do it all in one breath, Brennan said the first thing that came to mind, hoping he would forgive her.

"I'm sorry I hurt you last year, Booth." Her heart was thumping in her chest, uncertain she could undo the damage she'd done.

He shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry I pushed you. And I'm sorry I've been hurting you ever since."

They stared at each other, getting lost in a moment that they hadn't had in over a year.

"Booth?" Her voice was small, quiet and hesitant.

"Hmm?" His head tilted to the side, wondering what was going through her brilliant brain.

"I have really missed your guy-hugs…"

The words were barely out of her mouth and he was engulfing her in two strong arms, pulling her towards him as much as possible, given their awkward seating arrangement. When he felt two thin arms stretch around his waist and grab the back of his t-shirt, he smiled and exhaled into the ether. They remained like that for several minutes, neither seemed anxious to pull away, both breathing each other in, having long missed the sensation of being close together.

It was Brennan who broke the silence. "We have a lot to talk about, Booth..."

The fact that she skirted his real question moments earlier didn't slip by him, but Booth decided to save that for another day. "Yeah, Bones, we do..."

"So, what happens next?" She asked, her breath ghosting across his throat as she spoke, causing him to shiver.

Booth knew what had to happen next, but he knew she wasn't going to like the answer. "Well," one last squeeze and he started to pull away, fighting the urge the whole time to press a kiss into her wind-blown tresses. "For starters," he took a deep breath, "you should clear your schedule for the week after next… and tell Cam to schedule Clark to cover your work…"

She didn't comprehend what he was saying and quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"We are gonna have to attend that conference." He pulled away slightly, backing out of the path of Hurricane Brennan that he knew was about to hit.

"WHAT!? We don't need that, Booth!" She pushed up from her seat on the ancient boards. "Look," she swept her arm in a wide arc around them as she spun around once in place. "We didn't need any help facilitating this conversation tonight! We managed just fine without some soft-science-devotee trying to tell us what to say or how to say it! Why should we give up a week of our time, time that could be better-used working or solving cases, to go to a pointless convergence of maladjusted persons who can't communicate without structured conversations being handed to them line by line?!" Her face was hard, her eyes flashing angrily and her cheeks glowing a brilliant shade of pink.

And Booth thought that she was never more beautiful.

"Look, Bones, you're preaching to the choir." He shrugged his shoulders and turned back towards the ocean.

The familiar 'V' appeared between her manicured brows as she looked at the back of his head. "I don't know what that means."

Booth chuckled, happy to be back on familiar ground, even if it was still rocky terrain. "It means that I agree with you, that you don't need to lecture me." He eyed her sideways. "Thing is, we don't have a choice... Orders came from the top..." When he saw the wheels turning in her genius brain, probably scheming a way around the direct order from Cullen, he raised a finger. "Cullen was in my office first thing yesterday morning. He wasn't messing around, Bones. And if we truly want to remain together, then we are gonna go to this thing, do all the dumbass drills and exercises, ace the tests and then come home and get back to solving crimes. If we don't go... I'm gonna be stuck behind my desk doing the job I'm supposed to be doing as the Agent in Charge, doling out the orders to the Field Agents under me...and you're gonna be relegated to the lab for good."

Brennan's back stiffened and her shoulders squared in defense. "They can't do that, Booth! They wouldn't dare…"

"They can and they will, Bones." He exhaled sharply. "Look..." He pushed to his feet and faced her squarely. "I don't wanna end up a desk jockey and I don't want you forced to remain in the lab if you still want to be active in our investigations. Let's just do it and get it over with…" his eyes pleaded with her, knowing she would fight her way through the whole week.

"Well... I disagree _completely_ with this requirement, it is a ridiculous constraint to force upon us," she pouted stubbornly. "I suppose since we don't have a choice, I yield to the threat and will notify Cam tomorrow." She folded her arms and raised her nose. "But I do so under duress."

"Duly noted, Bones." He smirked gently, nodded once in affirmation and bent over to pick up the empty bottle that had been rolling around next to them. "I'll let Cullen know so they can get our reservations set."

A deep-rooted worry crept into Brennan's chest as she looked down at her hands, which, she only then realized, were still holding his credit cards. She extended her arm and opened her palm to him reluctantly.

When he saw what his best friend was handing to him, the agent felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "Maybe," Booth looked back up at her, fighting against the wave of nausea threatening to drop him to his knees. "Maybe you could hold on to them for me? Just for a little while?" He was pretty sure he had managed to ask for her assistance without sounding too needy, and he was thankful that she didn't seem to notice the crack in his voice,

Smiling at his decision, she nodded, a flood of relief washing over her. "Of course, Booth." She opened the flap of her messenger bag. "If you want," she slid them into place and looked back up at him, "I could come over and we can re-freeze them again?"

"Thanks, Bones." He pulled her in for another guy-hug that was definitely not a guy-hug, but he didn't care. "Thanks for everything..." He spoke quietly as she accepted his embrace and wrapped her arms around him as well.

After several moments, she spoke against his chest, where her head was craned and tucked beneath his chin. "I don't want to see Sweets any time soon, Booth." Her weekend had been spent on an emotional roller coaster, her state of mind was tattered from the goings on of the day. Most of all, however, she simply didn't want to risk uncovering anything else that she wasn't ready to face just yet.

"You got it, Bones." He glanced at his watch. "Well, shit," he pulled back a little and, keeping one arm slung loosely across her shoulders, ushered her over towards a nearby bench. "It's nearly three o'clock..." He sat down, feeling exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. "There's no way I'm gonna be able to drive back home tonight..."

Looking back towards the ancient hotel where she had entered in search of him, she sat back against the bench. "Did you reserve a room already?"

"Nah," he shrugged, resigning himself to speak the whole truth to her. "I was so focused on gambling, I only wanted to get in there and secure myself a seat at the table."

Inwardly satisfied that she had been correct in his first actions as well as his location, Brennan simply nodded in understanding. "Then, let's rent a room, Booth." She spoke matter-of-factly and his head swiveled in obvious panic, so she assured him. "Just for sleeping. We have shared rooms before... I am sure we can figure out the logistics for one evening..."

Embarrassed that he'd had such a gut reaction that she could read his panic, he chuckled. "Yeah, of course, Bones." He glanced back into the inky darkness. "Of course we can do that..."

She nodded and followed his line of sight, barely able to see where the ocean's foamy waves crashed against the shore, licking at the sand and reclaiming a fraction of the granules back out into the deep sea each time the ebb retracted. Content and comfortable once again at her partner's side, Brennan let her head fall to his shoulder, silently grateful that their argument hadn't been any worse than it really was and that she had been able to find him in time. Feeling herself suddenly shaken, her head bolted upright and she was staring into the dancing eyes of her partner.

"C'mon, Bones," he stood up and pulled her up as well. "You fell asleep on me..." He jerked his head in the direction of the hotel. "Let's go see if they have a room with a couple of doubles, huh?"

Shaking the sleepy fog from her brain, she scrutinized the exterior of the hotel and grimaced. "No."

"Why '_no'_? It's a perfectly fine place..."

"That is not a perfectly fine place, Booth... I doubt they even have laundry service..." Her pale glare never left the dilapidated building.

"What?" He cocked an eyebrow at his finicky partner. "What the hell do you need laundry service for? It's after three, Bones!"

"Because I did not bring a change of clothes..." She turned in place and looked in the opposite direction, speaking as she evaluated their options. "As it is, I will need to borrow a shirt from you to use as a sleep shirt..." She started walking, taking only a few steps. "There," she pointed to her decision. "We will inquire about a room in that hotel." She turned and looked at him expectantly, "are you opposed to that location?"

He eyed the upper-end hotel and sighed. "Well..." He shrugged one shoulder. "I'll need you to give up one of my cards, then... That place is a little too rich for my debit card..."

She smiled that he didn't actually argue against her choice. "C'mon," she started to tug his arm, but it was like moving a brick wall.

"Hang on there, Miss Snobby McSnob, I need to get my bag," he pointed over his shoulder towards the parking lot, ignoring the confused look his partner was throwing his way. "Besides, why don't we drive down there, Bones... It's further than you think, and I don't really feel like schlepping my bag all that way when they have a perfectly convenient parking lot for their patrons." He knew that when one was standing on the Boardwalk, unlike the views in your car's side mirrors, things _looked_ deceptively _closer_ than they really were.

Glancing back at the hotel of her choice, she turned back to Booth and nodded her acquiescence. She fell into step at his side, neither making any physical contact, but both silently thinking about how it might feel to simply reach out, and walk hand-in-hand like the couple they'd seen taking a late night stroll on the beach.

They reached Brennan's little BMW first and Booth watched her climb into the drivers' seat. Before he closed the door, he held her gaze for a moment and then nodded. "Ok, then. I'll see you down there." He jerked his head in the direction they'd be going. "Take a right out of the parking lot and go down four streets before turning in. Don't mistake the alleyway right here," he pointed on the other side of the old building to their right, "as a street; it's not."

She nodded in understanding and waited for him to close here door. Watching as he wove his way between a few cars to reach his truck, she backed out and waited for him to drive to the exit, intent on following him. As she tailed his SUV, she thought about their conversation and about how close she had come to revealing her true feelings, and she wondered if she was making a mistake by not telling him. As they pulled into the better-lit, and _much_ better maintained parking lot of the higher-end hotel, she had convinced herself that she made the right decision, because they had a lot of work to do before they could even think about entering into a personal relationship. She reminded herself, however, that she must tread carefully, lest Booth grow impatient with her insecurities and vulnerabilities, and end up seeking romantic comfort elsewhere.

Booth drove up and down a few aisles until he found two parking spaces together. As he watched her pull in next to him, he couldn't help but smile. He realized how lucky he was that she had come to find him before his Tupperware had thawed completely. He recognized that in his frame of mind at that time, he would have certainly gambled recklessly, only to have lost everything and awoken the next day feeling worse than he did upon arriving in Atlantic City. Lost in his private thoughts, he didn't even notice his partner standing outside his window, and when she tapped on the glass, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Smirking in embarrassment, he reached forward and turned off his engine, opening his door at the same time.

"Sorry about that, Bones," he chuckled. "Guess I'm just tired..."

Knowing from the look on his face that he was deflecting from his actual thoughts, she let it slide and stepped aside to give him room to exit the truck. "It's ok, Booth. I'm tired too. It's better that we get a decent few hours of sleep before going back home."

The particular hotel that his partner had chosen unfortunately had the doors leading directly into the lobby blocked off as workers repaired damage, so they were forced to enter through the casino. Booth felt his heart flutter as the soothing sounds of dealers calling and slots ringing infiltrated every corner of his consciousness, blocking out even Brennan's voice as she spoke to him. His steps slowed as he glanced longingly over to where a Blackjack game was just getting started and the urge to walk over to the table was overwhelming until he felt Brennan's cool fingers wrap around his forearm, bringing him back to her.

Brennan could see Booth's struggle. His upper lip was moist with perspiration and his eyes had dilated approximately twenty-five percent of their typical size. She was speaking to him, trying to keep his attention, but quickly realized that she had lost him the moment they stepped through the doors. When her fingers wrapped around his strong, smooth forearm, she felt him jerk in surprise, but she pretended not to notice.

"I don't think you heard my offer, Booth." Seeing the shame in his eyes, she hurried to blame their surroundings, speaking louder than necessary. "It's so loud in here," she started tugging his arm, "I'll ask you again out here." She continued pulling him until they had cleared the doors and the worst of the noise. "There," she inhaled sharply, glancing around the opulent lobby. "That's better. I can hear myself again." Smiling up at him, hoping he didn't realize she recognized his struggle, she just babbled, filling the air around them with senseless talk. "I was saying if you would rather, we could get adjoining rooms, then you could have your privacy, but I will still need to borrow a shirt, if you don't mind. I won't take offense if you don't want to share a room, but seeing as how the gift shop will be closed at this hour, I am quite out of luck for sleepwear..."

Looking back warily at the doors that led back into the lion's den, feeling the all-too familiar pull, the unhealthy attraction to the smoky, noisy room, he swiveled his eyes back at her, hoping his weak, sheepish side was not terribly visible.

"Y'know what? There's no sense in spending the money for two rooms for the short amount of time we'll be here." He didn't want to be alone... Solitude was his enemy right now. Even if she was just in the next room, it would be torture for him to not sneak downstairs and try his hand at _just one game_. "Let's just split the cost of one room, Bones. I promise to be a gentleman." The typical Booth-charm smile flashed across his lips for a moment and he leaned in, teasing her, once again taking attention from himself. "That is, unless you don't think you can keep your hands off me..."

**Postscript A/N. Ahh, Booth, always using cocky humor to deflect attention... Gotta love him. So... Are you satisfied with their discussion? Do you think this week-long convention will be beneficial or detrimental to their partnership?**

**Please let me know your thoughts. I really look forward to hearing from you!**

**peace and love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Hello and welcome back! I appreciate you rejoining me on this little trip through JazzyMuse's imagination. I had a good long talk with the muse and stressed the importance of moving into some warm and fluffy for a while... I foresee an ominous collection of episodes in our immediate future and I don't know about you, but I'm gonna need some fuzziness to counteract what we are about to face, I think. While not much excitement happens in this chapter, it was necessary in order to move on with the rest of the story. I hope you still enjoy my little fic. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just this story. If I owned Bones we sure as hell would see more proper B&amp;B interactions on screen. **

"We'd like a room with two doubles, please." Brennan handed her credit card to the young man on the other side of the counter. "Just for tonight, and with an extended check out tomorrow."

The man accepted the outstretched card and smiled at her, barely sparing a glance at the fidgeting man at her side. "I'm sorry, Miss," he looked down at the card, "Brennan…"

"_Doctor_ Brennan," she interrupted him immediately. "I did not endure years of education and thousands of hours working research digs and publishing scientific findings to be addressed as 'Miss' when the card to which you referenced clearly reads '_Dr._ T. Brennan'."

"_Doctor_ Brennan, my apologies." Initially the man had been drawn to the customer's attractiveness, but was instantly put off by her brash demeanor. Pasting on a fake smile, he blinked slowly and continued. "As I was saying," _before you interrupted_, he thought silently, "I'm sorry, but we do not have any doubles at this time." He handed her card back. "We have a few King rooms available, but they each only have one bed and a couch. Would you be interested in one of those? Or two of those, perhaps, if you and your…_friend_," he eyed Booth suspiciously, "don't want to share a room?"

Not at all appreciative of the shorter man's tone of voice, Brennan sighed and chose to ignore it, turning to Booth. Ready to ask him about his preference, her eyes were drawn to his dominant hand, where his fingers expertly wove his ever-present poker chip back and forth, from his digitus minimus tertius to his pollex. Momentarily mesmerized by the fluid movements of his phalanges, she mused internally about how he would complain if she were to refer to his _fingers_ by their Medical Latin-English terms aloud. Suddenly snapping out of her daze, she looked up at his profile, realizing that he was completely non-responsive to the entire interaction that had just occurred between the reception desk attendant and herself. Instead, her partner was watching the poker chip intently, ignoring everything else around him.

Handing her card back over the counter, she made their decision. "We will manage with just one room."

The man nodded and took the card. "I'll need your driver's license, please." He handed her a form. "And if you'll fill this out, and sign here at the bottom," he pointed to the required fields and turned back to his computer.

As Booth continued his blind focus on the repetitive movements of his hand, and Brennan completed the necessary paperwork for their room, a woman stepped into the reception area from a nondescript door behind the counter. She stood watching the early morning check-in with interest and once her employee had completed entering the data into the computer, she approached closer. With a surprised gasp, her eyes swiveled back to Brennan.

"When I saw you on the video, I didn't believe my eyes," the woman said to Brennan, stepping closer.

The stranger's movement towards his partner was enough to grab his attention and Booth snapped out of his dazed stupor. Closing the small distance between them, the agent instinctively squared his shoulders, standing protectively at Brennan's side, placing his hand on the small of her back as if it was second nature.

"Excuse me?" Brennan eyed the woman warily, feeling Booth's alpha nature go into full alert.

"You're Temperance Brennan, right? _The_ Temperance Brennan?" When her guest didn't immediately reply, she reached onto an unseen shelf beneath the counter and extracted a book. "Bone-of-Contention-Temperance-Brennan?" The woman smiled, her cheeks blushing in suppressed excitement. "Would…. Would you sign my copy? Please?"

Booth chuckled and stood back, his posture relaxing at the familiar interaction.

With an awkward smile, Brennan took the book and opened the cover. "To whom shall I address it?" Her pen was poised on the title page as she looked at the woman.

"My name is Jennifer."

With a curt nod, Brennan looked down and started to sign, just as she had done hundreds of times before when she and Booth would, through no willful actions of their own, meet a fan. She preferred this type of meeting, however, as opposed to type of encounter where her knowledge or skills were challenged by someone who thought she was a fraud, or a 'poser,' as someone had once called her just seconds before Booth put the stranger up against the nearest wall...

While Brennan was signing the novel, the star-struck Hotel Night Manager looked at the computer and started shaking her head vigorously. "Oh, no. This just won't do," she looked at the young man. "We have suites available for VIP clients, Billy. Change Dr. Brennan's room to 1447." She looked back at Brennan. "No additional charge, of course, Dr. Brennan. And I see from the notes that you wish a late check out." When she had Brennan's attention she smiled. "There is no set check out time for the suite, and it is not reserved for another several days, so there will be no rush in the morning. You can leave whenever you wish... You may even wish to stay another night... I mean, it's so late now..."

Booth looked down at Brennan with raised eyebrows, surprised at the turn of events. "Wow," he nudged her with his elbow, "we really need to start taking advantage of your notoriety more often, Bones..."

Not liking to draw unwanted attention to herself, she simply rolled her eyes at her partner as she handed the book back to the young woman. "That is very generous of you, Jennifer, but I assure you, the suite is unnecessary."

"Wait a minute, Bones," Booth inched closer. "If they wanna give us an upgrade, we can make it work..." His eyes flared, not believing that she would turn down such an offer.

"Nonsense, Dr. Brennan," Jennifer smiled and readily accepted the proffered book. "It's all taken care of." She held her newly-autographed book close to her chest like it was her most prized possession. "And room service is on the house, so, please," she smiled broadly, "enjoy anything that is on the menu."

With a reluctant nod, the Anthropologist accepted the room key. "Well, as I said, this was not necessary, but I assure you my partner appreciates your generosity." She felt Booth's hand slip into place on the small of her back and her heart fluttered, much like it used to do before that fateful night at the Hoover.

"Hell yeah, I'm gunna enjoy it," he flashed a mini-version of his famous charm grin at the woman behind the counter before turning it on full-blast in Brennan's direction. "Ready to go up?"

It seemed that only then did he actually draw Jennifer's attention, distracting her from her 'fan-girl' moment with the dazzling Dr. Temperance Brennan. When her cheeks flushed a bright red and her free-roaming eyes scanned the wide expanse of his chest appraisingly, Jennifer was startled by what she would later describe to her best friend as a low, animalistic growl emanating from the author's throat. Turning her hazel eyes back to her idol, she smiled stiffly, realizing that she had been caught ogling Brennan's arm-candy. "Would you like me to show you to your suite?"

"I don't believe so, Jennifer. We both possess above average intelligence levels; I am certain we will find our way." Brennan felt a heat of possessiveness wash over her as the attractive young blond pasted on a flirty smile and turned it back in Booth's direction. "Good night, Jennifer." Quickly, she threaded her arm through Booth's and tugged him towards the elevators. "Come on, Booth, we need to go upstairs."

The agent snickered at his partner's actions, completely enamoured with the alpha personality she displayed, even though he knew if he mentioned it, she would deny it vehemently. "What's your hurry, Bones?" He couldn't resist teasing her at least a little bit.

"What?" She looked startled that he noticed her intensity and she slowed her steps deliberately, forcing herself to relax her gait. "I'm not in a hurry..." She raised her nose in a typical Brennan-fashion and turned the tables back on him. "I am simply trying to minimize the magnitude of distress caused to you by prolonged exposure to the tempting sounds of the lobby casino." Knowing he wouldn't challenge her, she halted her steps. "If you would rather delay our progress, we can stand here a little longer. Although I believe loitering would be a pointless way to spend the limited time we have before going upstairs to obtain at least a minimal amount of sleep."

He smirked, knowing exactly what she was doing. "Nope," he tilted his head towards the elevator, "no need to hang out down here. Not where there's a fancy suite waiting for us upstairs."

Brennan felt her stomach flip in anticipation of sharing a room with Booth, though she had to remind herself that she was simply sharing her room with him in order to help him control his addictive tendencies in their current surroundings. "Well, then," she extended her hand, "shall we continue?"

"After you, Bones." He couldn't stop his eyes from sweeping down the long length of her body as she stepped in front of him, entering the elevator. He took a sharp breath before joining her, knowing that despite his exhausted state, he would not be getting much sleep that night, not with her in such close proximity yet still so far out of his reach.

The ride upstairs was quiet and when they reached their designated floor, Brennan stepped out first, leading the way towards their room. As she unlocked the door, she realized that her comments downstairs about his addiction may have been misunderstood. "Booth," she began quietly as she pushed her way into the room. "I am sorry if my allusion to your inability to handle being too close to the casino was insensitive. It wasn't my intention to sound so cold." She wasn't looking at him, her eyes focused far away, looking across the room sightlessly while she kept her back to his entrance.

"Hey," he gently touched her shoulder from behind, wanting her to look at him. When she resisted, he tried again, "Bones, turn around." His voice was so soft she couldn't deny him, so she turned in place. "You were not insensitive. You were being honest. One-hundred-percent honest and I know that." When he saw a flash of doubt veil her eyes, he pushed her to believe. "Hey, I'm serious. I know you didn't mean anything by it." He shrugged. "Hell, even if you did mean something by it, I couldn't argue the point... You saw me down there... You know I'm struggling." He felt his cheeks warm with a flush of embarrassment. He should be used to the shame he fought every day with his addiction; after working for years to overcome his handicap, he still always felt a pang of regret for his inability to conquer it completely. "Hell, I'm a mess. I know it."

Wanting to put him at ease, wanting him to go a little easier on himself as opposed to metaphorically beating himself up, she reached out and touched his bicep. "No. You're not a mess. You haven't gambled a penny since you got here, right?"

He smiled sadly. "My cards were still frozen, Bones."

"Not all of them," she smiled proudly. "If you were truly a mess, you would have extracted the one that was already thawed and you would have used it. But you didn't." She eyed him knowingly. She recognized the willpower he demonstrated in not disregarding his own rule of waiting for all of the cards to be free before using one. "You should be proud of yourself, Booth." Her grin spread wider as she recalled all the times he had told her how proud he was of something she had done, and how good it felt to make him proud. So, she added, "I'm very proud of you." She watched as his eyes brightened, just as she had hoped they would.

"You are?" He was surprised she would even voice such a notion, it was very unlike her. But he couldn't deny that it was pleasing to hear. When she nodded innocently, it caused him to laugh and pull her in for a friendly hug. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"I'm sure it does," she didn't miss a beat, "many people seek my approval. You are probably no different."

He burst out laughing at her typically immodest response. Booth had missed her candid remarks like that, and it had been quite some time since they had been on familiar-enough ground for her to joke in such a manner. "Yeah," he pulled back and started to look around at their surroundings. "That must be it, Bones. I'm looking for your approval." Quickly redirecting his attention, he gazed at the room and let out a long, low whistle. "Wow, Bones... Look at this place! I think this room is bigger than my whole apartment!" He turned back to her, his tired brown eyes alight with new-found energy. "Do you always get rooms like this when you go places?"

Scanning the standard VIP suite, she nodded. "Usually, yes." Scrutinizing a crack in the paint on the far wall. "Some places are kept in better condition than others." She turned back to him. "But this is quite acceptable."

"_Acceptable_?" He glanced around, looking for anything out of place and finding nothing. "This is better than acceptable. This is friggin' awesome."

She chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Well, I'm glad you like it." Turning to her left and then her right. "Would you like the master suite or the junior suite?"

Eyeing the sofa where he thought he'd be sleeping, Booth looked back at her. "There's more than one room in here?" His eyes swiveled to the far side at the closed door that he had assumed was the connecting emergency door to the next guest suite.

"Yes," her eyes followed the same path. "One side will be the master suite and the other side the junior suite." Looking back up at the surprised expression her partner wore, she grinned. "I don't know which side is which, as I have never been here. Why don't you take the master suite... It will be a little larger." She started walking towards the closed door as she spoke over her shoulder. "Let's see which is the roomier space."

Moving quickly to catch up to her, Booth shrugged. "Doesn't really matter to me, Bones. Hell, I figured I'd be sleeping on the couch, so I'm good with either room."

Opening the door to a luxuriously adorned room, Brennan looked at Booth. "I would not ask you to sleep on the couch, no matter what kind of room we had. It would be bad for your back."

"Ahh," he shook his head distractedly, "I'm used to sleeping on a couch. I fall asleep watching TV all the time."

"No wonder your back's health is deteriorating so rapidly," she grumbled under her breath and turned away, leaving her partner to stare in awe at the first room. When she opened the door on the opposite end of the suite, she noted immediately that this was the larger room. "You can sleep over here, Booth!" She called out, not realizing that he had already caught up with her. She jumped when he coughed in shock at the size of the bedroom.

"Jesus Christ, Bones..." He walked to the closet and opened it, peering inside at enough space that his son's bedroom could have fit inside. "We are _definitely_ using your fame next time we travel... _Every_ time we travel..."

The scientist laughed and walked out into the main living area, going immediately to Booth's duffle bag and sliding open the zipper. "I need a shirt, Booth." She started rummaging without permission, hoping he had packed one of his dark FBI-issue t-shirts; they were her favorites because of how soft they were, and the one she had confiscated from him years before was practically threadbare at home. Wrapping her fingers around the article of focus, she carefully teased it from the depths of the clothes pile, smiling the whole time.

Booth stood at the entry to his room, leaning against the doorframe and watching her. When he saw what she was claiming, he chuckled and pushed off his perch to join her. "Find what you were looking for?"

Again, he had approached her silently, causing her to jump in surprise at his close proximity. Spinning on her heel, she hugged the shirt close. "Yes," her voice practically squeaked and she cleared her throat in hopes of regaining her posture. "I needed," she held it out, "a shirt..."

"Yeah, I heard you," he grinned and peeked at the FBI logo. "That one good enough?"

"Oh, definitely," she looked pleased with herself. "The FBI might not provide such comfortable travel arrangements when we are sent on assignment, but they certainly purchase excellent shirts for their employees..."

He laughed out loud and grabbed his bag from the chair. "Yeah, they're pretty damn nice, aren't they?" He winked. "Anything else you need? I have shorts and a pair of sweatpants in here," he nodded to the opened zipper.

"No thank you, the shirt will suffice," she felt her face flush at the unexpected intimacy of sharing Booth's clothes. "We should get some sleep." She tilted her head to the side and watched as her partner appeared to want to say something, but then she saw him change his mind. "Don't you think?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty beat and I'm sure you are, too." He searched her eyes, wanting to tell her how much he appreciated her being there. He wanted her to know how much she meant to him. But he didn't want to say too much, he wasn't ready to reveal too much of himself, already knowing she could read him better than she gave herself credit for. "Good night, Bones."

"Good night, Booth," she turned towards her room. Pausing and glancing over her shoulder, she found him standing in the same spot, watching her walk away. "Wake me if you need anything, Booth... You know, if you need to talk."

"I will, Bones. You too." He watched a pretty pink blush fill her cheeks as she turned away again, disappearing into her bedroom.

B/B/B/B

After over an hour of tossing in bed, trying in vain to sleep, Booth swung his legs over the side. Scrubbing his hand down his face, he pushed up and padded out into the darkened kitchenette to explore the contents of the fully-stocked refrigerator and cabinets. With an internal cheer, he reached in and pulled out a cold beer, examining the label with interest. Finding that it was from a local microbrewery that he didn't recognize, he shrugged a shoulder and opened it, knocking the contents back in long, slow swallows. He grabbed another bottle and leaned against the small counter, staring unseeing out the large windows at the distant horizon. He sipped his beer slowly and thought about his life, about his work and mostly about his partner. As he tilted his head back, finishing half the bottle quickly, a sound disturbed him and he stood upright. Walking over into the sitting area, he circled the couch and found the focus of his distraction sleeping in an awkward position on the plush sofa. She had a blanket haphazardly thrown over her lower half and she was partially propped up against the overstuffed arm. A frown marred the flawless skin of her forehead and Booth had to stop his movements mid-air as he reached out, wanting to smooth a thumb across the offending 'v' that had presented itself between her eyebrows. Pulling his hand back, he stood there and watched her for a couple minutes, wondering why she was on the couch rather than in bed, where she belonged. Her look of dismay deepened and a small groan escaped her sleeping throat. Unable to resist, the agent squatted before her, reaching out and lightly tracing his fingers along the creases in her brow. A whimper filled his ears and he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Shh, Bones," he leaned close, whispering softly, his own voice harsh in the way that happens when someone hasn't slept for an extended amount of time. "You're alright." She shifted in her sleep, almost leaning into his touch. So, he touched her again, running the pads of his fingers along her cheek, down towards her chin. He watched the path his fingers took, admiring the way the muted light from outside made her skin seem to glow. It took every fiber of self-restraint he possessed to not lean forward and kiss her softly. It seemed that her spirit, her energy called to him, drew him closer...so close that he could practically taste the air surrounding her, and it made his chest ache knowing that he had no right to feel this way. He had no permission to even touch her, so he withdrew his hand, afraid he might disturb her further from her slumber.

When she felt his tender touch stop, her eyes snapped open and she inhaled, suddenly realizing that she had been holding her breath after waking at her partner's gentle cooing. She knew he hadn't realized she'd woken. His fingers, his soothing touches and his quiet reassurances drew her from the depths of a nightmare; a nightmare in which she didn't reach her partner in time, and he died on a decommissioned ship set to implode out in the middle of the ocean.

His dark chocolate eyes met hers in the quiet of the morning and he tilted his head, eyeing her carefully. "You were dreaming..."

She nodded, afraid to speak, certain that if she said anything she would wake from this pleasant interruption to the recurring dream that had plagued her for years. Blinking, she realized that this wasn't a dream, that he was really right there in front of her, caressing her awake. But then he stopped. He stopped touching her, stopped looking at her with the expression that told her that there was still a chance. And now he just looked concerned. "I'm ok," she pushed up from her partially-reclined position, silently cursing that she had allowed herself to fall asleep. Her throat and mouth were dry and she caught a glimpse of a beer bottle on the coffee table behind Booth. "Is that," nodded towards it, "empty?"

"Nope," Booth reached over and grabbed the bottle, handing it to her. "Still cold, too."

She took a mouthful gratefully, she wouldn't have cared if it was warm or not, it was wet and that's what she needed. Returning the bottle to him, she smiled. "Thanks."

"What are you doing out here?" The partners asked each other simultaneously. They both laughed and Brennan motioned for Booth to go first.

"Oh," he held up his beer. "I couldn't sleep, so I came out and raided the fridge." He winked. "They've got all kinds of stuff in there!"

His impish smile brought a matching grin to Brennan's lips and she flopped back against the couch, pulling the blanket up to her waist to cover her bare legs. She didn't want to tell him why she had actually fallen asleep on the couch; she feared upsetting him, leading him to think she didn't trust him. But knowing that they would soon be attending a conference that would certainly promote open honesty, she confessed her secret.

"I never meant to fall asleep out here..." She looked down at the edge of the blanket where her fingers worked to unravel the thread. "I had only intended to be here a short while, until I knew you were asleep... But I guess I put my head down and..." She shrugged and raised her clear blues up to him. "I must have dozed off."

"Why were you planning to be here until you thought I was asleep?" His brow wrinkled, not following her logic. They had both said good night, he had watched her walk into the junior suite and close the door before he did the same on the opposite end of their hotel room. And yet, she was out here in the living room nearly two hours later.

Taking a deep breath, Brennan raised her chin. "Just in case... You know... In case you needed to talk..."

Realizing the truth of what she had done, Booth rolled back to his heels to stand up, realizing only then that he was wearing nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt. "Bones. You should have gone to bed." He slid up onto the couch beside her, letting the edge of the blanket nonchalantly cover one of his legs and most of his crotch. "I wasn't going to sneak downstairs."

Embarrassment filled her chest and her cheeks blazed a bright crimson. She hadn't wanted him to know, and she was mad that he found her before she had woken herself. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he cut her off immediately, not wanting her to regret watching out for him. Truth be told, he was flattered that she was concerned enough to do that for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should be ashamed of his weakness that his partner would sacrifice the luxury of Egyptian linens and fluffy pillows just to make sure he was not falling off the wagon, but in that moment, he didn't feel shame, he felt a swell of overwhelming appreciation and affection for the one and only person who could simultaneously infatuate and infuriate him on any given day. And in that moment, it was pure infatuation filling his every sense. "Thanks, Bones."

Brennan searched his eyes and saw his warm smile, and she knew he wasn't mad at her, she hadn't upset him the way she'd feared. She nodded, looking uncharacteristically shy and they simply sat side-by-side on the couch for several quiet moments.

"C'mon," Booth finally broke the silence and reached for her hand. Grabbing it and scooting forward, he pulled her up to her feet.

"Wha-" she stuttered, surprised at her typically-modest-to-a-fault-partner's disregard for their current respective states of partial-undress.

"We need sleep." He tugged her along, though he noted that she was following pretty freely. "And not out here, half sitting up."

"Booth," Brennan finally slowed, taking away the slack of their arms as she pulled back slightly. "My room's over there," she pointed over her shoulder.

"I know, Bones. But the last time I let you walk in there, you ended up back out here." He raised his eyebrows knowingly. "How am I supposed to sleep if I'm worrying about whether or not you're sneaking around out here rather than going to bed? You know how you lectured me about my back? Well...You're not gettin' any younger either, there, sister."

Not recognizing the slang usage of familial declaration, she wrinkled her forehead. "Booth, you and I are definitely not siblings..."

"Thank God for that," he muttered, thinking about all the hours he would have to spend in Confession if it was ever determined that they were somehow related.

"Huh?" Her head tilted to the side, not following his grumbling.

"Nothing, Bones. Look, I know we're not siblings, ok?" He tugged her again, "it's just a saying. C'mon, already." He continued the path to his room and sighed in relief that she followed along, no longer clutching the blanket against her body, but trailing it along behind.

Pointing to the bed, he motioned her forward. "Go ahead, Bones. Lie down."

She walked to where the covers were pulled away and slid into the wonderfully soft sheets, ready to drift off into blissful sleep. But then he was poking her in the shoulder, bringing a frown of disapproval to her face.

"Scoot over, that's my spot," he grinned at her expression as he pointed to the unused pillow that would be on his left when he finally laid down.

With a grunt and a huff, Brennan slid further over in the bed, sliding between the top sheet and bottom with ease. _I must find out the make of these sheets_, she thought to herself, _they feel wonderful._

It wasn't until Booth responded that she realized with a start that she had been speaking aloud. "Yeah, they feel awesome, don't they?" With a grin, he pulled the blanket up as well, shielding their bodies from the chill of the overhead fan. He tucked an arm beneath his head and laid on his back, stretching out his muscles as he prepared his mind to get a little rest.

Brennan was on her side, facing him, studying his distinct profile in the dim light of the room, and she felt an overwhelming desire to be closer. So, she edged nearer, perhaps five or six millimeters. _Maybe he won't notice if I close the distance, just a little, _she thought as she eyed the flat hollow below his shoulder and above his pec that was practically inviting her to rest her head there. Focusing intently on that spot, she felt like all the air had been sucked from the room, her lungs burned as she held her breath. With a final, chancing glance up at his face again, and finding him staring at the ceiling, she gave in to the undeniable need and pressed her cheek to the very welcoming, perfectly-form-fitted space, and she exhaled slowly, draping her arm across his chest in a move she never dared to do in their past.

"I don't like to cuddle," she instinctively defended herself quietly. In direct contradiction to what she had just claimed, she lined her body up against his, snuggling up under his chin without second thought.

With a satisfied grin as he continued to stare at the ceiling, Booth lowered his arm from beneath his head and wrapped it around her shoulders, securing her against him possessively. "Yeah, I don't like cuddling either, Bones." Without permission, his head turned and he pressed a light kiss into her hair. "Makes me feel claustrophobic."

Nodding against his shirt, she made no attempt to move or withdraw herself from his protective hold. "I feel the same. And I don't like the feeling of being trapped," she gripped his t-shirt in her hand, fisting it tightly.

"You don't have to ever feel trapped, Bones. You just let me know if you need me to loosen up, huh?" He rubbed his calloused palm across her shoulder and upper arm, sneaking touches of skin when he reached the edge of the short sleeve. "Get some sleep, Bones."

"Mm-hmm," she mumbled incoherently, already feeling a sense of calm settling over her body at being close and knowing she was safe. "Night, Booth." And he was safe...

"Good night," he spoke into her hair. He could practically feel himself falling harder for the woman in his arms, if that was even possible. Her ability to challenge him, defend him and trust him completely took his breath away. And the simple fact that she admittedly didn't cuddle, and yet reached out to him, initiating contact like never before, caused his heart to swell at her belief in him.

He had come dangerously close that night to jumping off the wagon, both feet first with eyes wide open. If Brennan hadn't arrived when she did, Booth had no doubt that he would have been in a world of trouble once he planted himself at the Blackjack table. But she _had_ arrived in time, she searched the whole friggin' Boardwalk and found him, and for that, he owed her his life. And in the quiet moments of early morning, he vowed to do things right the next time around. He wouldn't push too hard, he wouldn't pull her unwillingly. Instead, he would walk beside her and experience things with her as their new reality unfolded around them...whenever the right time introduced itself.

With a final squeeze, he nuzzled his nose into her sweet smelling tresses, not feeling even the least bit claustrophobic. And, as he listened to Brennan's tiny, barely-there snores, Booth whispered a forbidden, "G'night, Baby."

**Postscript A/N **

**I am absolutely positive that he wouldn't be able to keep his lips from kissing her head as it rested on his chest! I hope you don't mind ;)**

**Please let me know what you think by leaving me a review! I really appreciate the support! **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N. Hello dear readers. **

**This chapter is shorter than most, but I really REALLY needed to put something a little lighter up after that last episode. I'm not going to debate my stance or opinion of what the writers did to the show and to the characters, but I won't pretend to be happy about it. I am just going to continue writing. **

**Disclaimer... I think we all know by now that I don't own anything to do with Bones. Otherwise we sure as fuck wouldn't be dealing with this shit... Anyway, back to it...**

As Brennan opened her eyes against the offensive light of day seeping through the generous gap in the hotel curtains, she took a sharp intake of breath and froze. The night before had seemed like a dream as she fought her way from sleep into consciousness, but her current position left no room for doubt that it was no dream. She was backed up against Booth's long, hard body as he spooned her from behind, his heavy right arm draped possessive around her waist as he palmed the feminine curve of her tummy where her t-shirt had ridden up in sleep. Moving only her eyes, she looked down at her own arms, which hugged his left arm as it was threaded beneath the hollow of her neck and angled diagonally across her torso. To her surprise, despite waking and realizing their relative positions, she still clung to his strong forearm, holding it flush against her, and she made no motion to move. She exhaled slowly, wondering what he would think when he, too, woke from a late night of talks and restlessness. She didn't have to wait long.

He was already awake...had been awake for nearly half an hour when he felt her finally starting to stir. When his dark brown eyes popped open thirty minutes earlier, he argued with himself about whether or not he should extract his limbs from her fierce grip or simply wait and see her reaction when she rejoined him in the land of the living. He remembered how she reached for him in the night, turning and touching in tandem, and even, after she had gotten up to use the bathroom in the final dark moments of morning, when she returned she had snuggled back against him, blindly reaching for his arm and pulling it around her soft, warm curves. The extent of his exhaustion was overpowered by the depths of his desire to be close to her, to hold her, touch her, smell her... Once she was settled after her trip to the restroom, he allowed himself to drift back into a satisfied slumber, noting the perfect way her body lined up with his, and how natural it felt to be with her and to listen to her sleepy murmurs. He was thankful that whatever had disturbed her sleep out in the living area of the hotel room hadn't returned and she seemed to have slept soundly.

Flexing his hand against her silky, forbidden skin, he nuzzled his nose and chin against the loose hair that spilled over onto his pillow. "Mornin', Bones." His voice was deep and gravelly.

Following her instinct, she simply pulled his left arm tighter against her. "Good morning." She inhaled deeply and could smell his cologne surrounding her, and the unique scent that was quite simply 'Boothy' filled her senses. "Did you sleep ok?" She didn't move to look at him, she just continued to squint against the bright light filtering into the room and she wondered briefly what time it was.

"Mm-hmm," he rubbed the calloused pads of his fingers against the skin of her abdomen, knowing full well that he should release her, but unable to make his hands actually move. "You?"

After pondering for only a moment, she nodded and rolled her shoulders, allowing her back to press harder into his chest as she threaded her fingers through his. "Yes. I feel surprisingly well-rested."

"Yeah, well," he moved his eyes just enough to see the clock on the dresser at the end of the bedroom, "it's almost two in the afternoon... We should both feel pretty damn rested, I'd say." He dropped his head back down again into the plush pillow and smelled the sweet remnants of her shampoo.

"Wait," she pushed up, instantly regretting the loss of contact but needing to gain control. "It's two o'clock!? I have to call Cam!" She swung her legs over the edge, but froze when Booth's hand darted out and stopped her.

"It's ok, Bones." He pushed up to one arm, suspending his weight on his elbow. "You slept through your phone ringing. I already told her you wouldn't be in today." When she met him with questioning eyes, barely hiding the panic of what her boss must think was going on, he set out to reassure her. "I apologized that we didn't call ahead…. I told her you were helping me last night... And that you stayed awake with me to make sure I didn't relapse..." When her shoulders relaxed at his explanation, he continued. "I told her you'd call later if you wouldn't be in tomorrow." He met her soft smile with one of his own and they lost themselves in a moment, the kind of moment they hadn't shared in more than a year. Taking a deep breath, Booth let himself fall back down against his pillow. "You gonna go back in tomorrow?"

Relaxing, she sat back, adjusting her pillow so she could sit up. "Yes. I will have to prepare everything and make arrangements to be out the week after next. Aren't you going back?" She looked down at him, studying his handsome features.

He swiveled his eyes at her and nodded. "Yeah. Initially I took an extended leave of absence with no return date indicated... But since we're gonna go to the meeting, I need to go in and let Cullen know so he can get everything sorted." Forcing himself to ignore the fact that she was seated at his side in nothing more than his t-shirt and a pair of panties, he looked back at the ceiling. "What d'ya wanna do today? You want to head right home or get something to eat first?"

"Well," Brennan got an impish look on her face. "Since we are a couple of hookers today we could make the most of it..."

He turned back to look at her, startled at her statement as he tried to wrap his mind around what the hell she was talking about. Seeing the delighted look on her face, he knew immediately what she meant. "Bones," he pushed himself up to sit next to her, "we are not hookers..."

"Yes, we are," she contradicted him immediately, not allowing him time to talk. "One who does something is most often indicated by the addition of e-r at the end of the word. Occasionally i-e-r may be added, depending on the form of the root word..."

Booth, in turn, interrupted her squinty rant. "Bones, we are _playing hooky,_ we are not _hookers_... If anything, we're _players_. But definitely not hookers."

"I disagree," she raised her nose in the air stubbornly.

"Disagree all you want, Bones," he swung his legs around to the side of the bed, "you're wrong." Chuckling to himself, he mumbled, "feels good telling you that you're wrong sometimes..."

Without missing a beat, Brennan grabbed her pillow and whipped it around, smashing him across his back and laughing at the shocked look he gave her as he started to slide from his perch onto the floor. When he was settled on the rug, leaning against the side of the bed, he joined her in laughing, feeling the tremdous weight of the past couple days dissipate into thin air.

Brennan crawled across the bed and laid on her belly, resting her head on her folded arms, next to where his head fell back against the mattress. When their chuckles quieted down, she turned and rested her cheek on her forearm, so she could look at him.

"Booth?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm really glad that we talked last night... And that we are still partners."

Rolling his neck, he looked into her cerulean blues and smiled softly. "Yeah. Me too, Bones. We're gunna be fine."

"I believe you." And the clarity he saw staring back at him left no room for doubt that she did believe him and that she, too, believed they would be fine. After several more quiet moments, she pushed up from where she was resting and crawled off her side of the bed. "I'm going to go take a shower, Booth. Do you want to order room service? It's included with the room..."

He grinned. "Nope," he arched an eyebrow when she looked surprised. Standing up, he straightened his shirt, and tilted his head. "There's a kick-ass pizza joint down the boardwalk just a little ways. I wanna take you there." When she looked skeptical, he urged her to agree. "This place has been here for years, Bones. It's like a staple on the boards." Seeing that she still wasn't completely convinced, he added, "they have eggplant parmigiana that even I like..."

Her eyes lit up at the idea of the meal and she nodded. "Ok. I'll be ready in about 20 minutes."

B/B/B/B

The next week and a half passed quickly and relatively uneventful. Booth had been called in for a routine stake-out job that lasted a total of five nights and took him out of the rotation for any new homicide cases that opened up. He had been forced to appoint Charlie to work with Clark when a relatively straight-forward situation arose and Brennan refused to work with the Junior Agent. The substitute team did well, and pretty much everyone left Brennan alone to work in Limbo and draft up a plan for her interns for while she was out of the lab for a week.

Needing Booth's signature on a couple of forms that Brennan wanted to finalize before leaving town, she went over to the Hoover in search of her partner. When she arrived at his office, she found Cullen in the guest chair waiting for Booth to return from the snack lounge.

"Well, he hasn't stopped for lunch," Cullen chuckled, "he thought he was going to starve to death."

Brennan smiled at the Deputy Director, shaking her head at Booth's constant need to eat before he 'starves to death.' "I've tried to teach him, that the likelihood of starving to death is highly doubtful, but he doesn't listen." She placed a file on his desk and moved to leave. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I just needed Booth's signature on those documents."

Just as Cullen was rising from his seat to stop the anthropologist from leaving, Booth rounded the corner into his office, nearly plowing his partner over. "Hey, Bones!" His smile spread as he reached out to stabilize her from falling backwards from his invasion into her personal space. "Sorry 'bout that." When she was firmly on both feet, he sidestepped around her, moving towards his desk. "What's up?"

"Well, as I was saying to Director Cullen, I didn't mean to interrupt your meeting. I was just hoping to complete some of our outstanding files before the convention."

"Oh, you're not interrupting, Dr. Brennan," Cullen spoke up. "I just stopped in to talk to Booth about next week's conference. It's actually good that you stopped in when you did." He motioned to the chair beside him, inviting her to sit. "The reservations have been arranged and as you requested, we've booked you adjoining rooms," he addressed each partner in turn. "You will have to register and pick up your welcome packets in the Red Maple ballroom tonight when you arrive." He handed Booth the entrance passes they would need. "The meetings and all the other events will start tomorrow morning." He smiled at Brennan and caught the slightest bit of reluctance behind her forced pleasantness. Wanting to hurry through this little huddle, he cleared his throat. "Well," he pushed up. "The bus will leave promptly at 4:00, so don't be late."

"Bus?" Booth's brow wrinkled in response.

"Wait, what bus?" Brennan's surprise was obvious.

"Whoa," Booth extended his hands and sat back in his office chair, clearly displeased with his boss's comment.

Brennan's brows raised, her brilliant mind switching modes instantaneously. "Horse!" She exclaimed it proudly, a smile broadening across her face, only to fade when she saw Booth's look of confusion as he narrowed his eyes in her direction. "You remember... The word game..." she started to explain, but was cut off with a sharp shake of his head.

"Bones, stop." He didn't want to get distracted, and memories of that particular session with Sweets only served as fuel for the burning desire he felt for his partner smoldering just beneath the surface... It was a feeling he fought on a daily basis, and even more since his breakup with Hannah and the evening he spent with Brennan pressed against him in Atlantic City. Turning his attention back on Cullen, he started to argue his point. "Sir, we are not taking a bus."

"Booth, you received the literature... And the memos... All the attendees are going on the bus. It's meant to serve as bonding time, a chance to get to know one another." Cullen knew he was fighting an uphill battle, but had to at least try.

"I don't need to get to know other people," Brennan offered. "It is my understanding that the purpose of this conference is so Booth and I will develop a better working relationship," she deadpanned her eyes, "which is completely unnecessary, I might add." She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. "Besides I don't work for you, so you cannot order me to take group transportation."

"What if Parker needs me?" Booth set his jaw firmly. "What if I need to get back to my family in a hurry? Or what if Bones has an emergency come up over at the Jeffersonian? I need to be able to drive her back..." He silently prayed that his independent partner wouldn't dispute the necessity that 'he' be available to drive her home.

Picking up on Booth's extreme displeasure at the idea of giving up his almost manic-like control of driving, Brennan simply nodded in agreement and added to the argument. "If there is a grisly murder that occurs during this next week, my expertise will most likely be required to determine cause of death and I will need to return immediately. Waiting on public transportation to be arranged is a waste of my time and could jeopardize the end results of the case."

"You know how she hates it when a crime scene isn't processed correctly," Booth reasoned to the Deputy Director. "And if it's a gruesome case or particularly difficult, you wouldn't want one of her squinterns handling evidence, would you? I mean," he huffed in frustration more than in humor, "can you imagine Daisy Wick on the witness stand in front of a twelve-panel-jury explaining why she was the one collecting evidence instead of her mentor, the world-renowned-Doctor-Temperance-Brennan? Her only reason being the lame-ass excuse that Dr. Brennan was not able to be recalled from an FBI convention in time to process the remains..."

Brennan instantly and expertly volleyed the conversation, speaking to Cullen's sense of duty. "You wouldn't want one of my unsupervised _students_ handling a case that you would have to sign-off on, would you Director?" She shrugged over-dramatically, her acting skills no better than the first time she and Booth went undercover. "Of course, you could be treating this as an opportunity to replace me with a person of lesser skills and fewer college degrees in a poorly planned attempt to save the government some money... In which case," she looked at her partner and heaved a big stage-sized-sigh, "it won't matter if we are successful at the retreat or not, Booth... The FBI wishes to replace me..."

Booth could barely contain the smirk at what he would later refer to as her shitty acting skills, but gave her mental kudos for her effort. With a determined look, he painted on his best poker-face. "I won't work with another Squint." His deep brown eyes met Cullen's already-resigned gaze. "Bones is the only Forensic Anthropologist for me." He felt his face heat up at the double-entendre, but managed to push through. "If that's your plan, Sir, good luck. My recommendation would be to team Charlie with Wendell, but, Wendell is still pretty green... Their solve rate'll be considerably less than ours, even on one of our worst months..."

"Oh," Brennan feigned helpfulness, "I would suggest that you contract Dr. Edison... He already has a Doctorate, but only in Human Anthropology, not in Forensic Anthropology. His true passion lies in ancient civilizations, but he may stick with it long enough to solve a few cases for you before you retire, Sir. But as soon as Mr. Bray has the financial resources to complete the program and obtain his Doctorate, you should look into replacing Clark..."

"Enough," Cullen pushed to his feet, shaking his head at the partners. He knew they would balk, and he assumed they would stick together, but to spin such a tale of extravagance was unexpected. "Go ahead and drive your damn selves, then. Just make sure you're there no later than eight-thirty for check-in. Otherwise you will need to just get your room keys from the hotel reception and check in for the conference in the morning." He spun on his heel, anxious to hide his grin. Wanting to get the last word as he left the office, he pointed to Brennan without looking at her. "You still can't have a gun!" His words were stern, his humor well hidden.

"Oh, but I have..."

"Shut up, Bones." His eyes swiveled to Cullen where his boss had stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the defiant doctor. "No gun, Sir. I'm her gun..." He wanted to deflect from the fact that, despite being turned down for a gun, _twice_, his partner was armed on the job, (not to mention that she was often anxious to shoot someone...) "She's got me..."

Recognizing when he was beat, and knowing full well that his best agent's partner carried a gun regardless of the two declined applications filed with Booth and himself, he shook his head. "Yeah... That's what I thought..."

After he was sure Cullen was out of earshot, Booth leaned forward towards Brennan. "You can't just go and tell my boss that you're packing heat, Bones. He turned down your appeal application!"

"Well, _you_ turned down my initial application and _you_ know I carry a gun..."

"Well that's different," he countered without justification.

Letting a conspiratory smile spread across her lips, she chuckled, changing the subject. "We were very good, Booth. Very convincing..."

Booth knew better; he knew that Cullen saw through their argument against the bus and he surmised that his boss was planning to allow them to drive themselves before the topic even arose. He didn't want to spoil Brennan's fun however, because he loved seeing the bright look on her face. "Yeah, Bones, we were good. Your acting is getting much better!" He flopped back in his chair, raising his arms and tucking them behind his head. "You must be practicing."

"Well," she tilted her head. "Practice makes perfect, and I like to do things as perfectly as possible."

He chuckled, "I know y'do, Bones." He pushed the folder back her way and shifted in his seat. "So, ah, you want me to come by your place and pick you up, say 'round four o'clock? We can grab some grub before hitting the road?"

Pausing only a split second to let the colloquialisms process, her brain translated Booth's request into actual English and she nodded. "Yes, that would be acceptable." She collected the folder from the edge of the desk and stood. "Thank you for signing these, I wanted to get as much completed as possible before we left."

"Yeah, no problem, Bones." His eyes couldn't help but twinkle when he looked at her, and he hoped that she couldn't read his real emotions. Temperance Brennan had never been a people-reader, as such, but over the years she had certainly become more familiar with his facial expressions, and able to decipher what he was thinking more times than she realized.

When she reached the door, she glanced back. "I'm glad we don't have to ride with everyone else, Booth. You know how I dislike being cramped in tight places with people I don't know well."

His gaze softened. He understood her anxiety about being in tight places. Ever since she and Hodgins had been buried alive, she avoided circumstances that made her feel closed-in or claustrophobic. He thought about their night in Atlantic City and the way she curled up against him, clinging to him while denying her need to cuddle... And the way he, too, refused to admit to his desire to wrap himself around her for as long as she'd let him. He was grateful knowing they would have some time alone before being hurled into the midst of a conference full of competitive and arrogant agents. "I know, Bones. I'm glad too." He sat forward, resting his forearms on his desk. "I'll see you in a couple hours, Bones."

**Postscript A/N. **

**Ahhh poor Cullen, getting tag-teamed by our favorite partners... The guy never stood a chance! But at least he had a vague idea of what he was getting into when he started the conversation. Lol **

**Looking forward to hearing from you. Readership seems to be down quite a bit, so I want you to know that I really appreciate the feedback you all provide in your reviews. They help me find ways to be a better writer... Or at least I hope I'm getting better! **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N welcome back! Not much happening here, just some movement. If all goes as planned, you guys might even get the next chapter either later today or tomorrow... I am expecting a couple of pretty heavy weeks at work coming up and want to get some more of this story posted for you all in appreciation for your continued support! **

**So, let me say THANK YOU for your continued warm wishes about this little tale. I am glad that most of you are enjoying it! Please feel free to continue letting me know what you think! **

**Disclaimer... really? Do I need to do this again? I own nothing, just this story. So let's get on with it!...**

Brennan heard the familiar knocking at her door and called out from her room. "Come in, Booth! It's open!"

Shaking his head in frustration, he pushed into the living room. "Dammit, Bones, what if it wasn't me? Huh?" He started down the short hallway, hearing movement from the far room. "What if I was some psycho here to kidnap you and you're just letting me in?! Why the hell is your door open, anyway?" He leaned on her door jam, watching as she zipped her suitcase closed. "I installed the chain lock and peep hole for a reason, y'know..."

It was a constant battle, the argument familiar and surprisingly welcome as the partners were making those critical steps back towards each other. "Booth, I knew it was you because your knock is very distinctive." She grinned over her shoulder and walked to the bathroom to turn out the light. "Besides, it was locked until just about two minutes ago, when I walked out there to unlock it, expecting your arrival any moment." She shot him a smug look, gloating that she could accurately predict that he would arrive fifteen minutes early. "I figured you would be hungry..."

"I'm starved. I didn't stop for lunch. I figured we'd get an early start if you're ready?" Whether she was ready or not, he moved her suitcase off the bed, carrying it down the hall towards the entryway. He heard the tell-tale cadence of her boots on the hardwood floors as she hurried to catch up with him, not that he would leave without her, but his comment caused her to scurry. He hid the smirk and turned to look at her as he placed the suitcase down. "Jesus, Bones, whadd'ya got in here? Feels like a ton of bricks. We're only going for a week, remember?"

"Well," she met his challenging eyes, "we have two semi-formal meals and the rest of the week is casual, so I have packed the appropriate attire."

He cocked and eyebrow. No way the suitcase he just hauled out from her bedroom contained only clothes and toiletries. He said nothing but waited for her to pipe up with the truth.

Realizing that they wouldn't be going anywhere until she fessed, Brennan rolled her eyes. "I have some back-issues of various science journals that I need to catch up on," her response was so natural that it was as if he should have known better than to ask. "Evenings in my hotel room will be a perfect time to do that. I will not have the common distractions of being at home or at the lab to keep me from reading..." She rifled through her messenger bag ensuring she had everything she needed and glanced up to see him shaking his head in disbelief.

"Only you, Bones, would take a forced week-away-from-work and turn it into work of another sort. You know, if we have free time while we're there, we can go to a club or to a movie or something... You don't have to quarantine yourself to your room..."

Feeling a little surprised that he would want to spend free time with her, she wasn't exactly sure how to answer. Even though they talked Atlantic City, their friendship had been strained for so long, and he had been nearly impossible to read during that time, she assumed he would want to spend time with his colleagues after being with her all day. "Well," she started hesitantly, "I figured you would want to go out with your friends, not with me. And since I don't have any friends attending this function, I knew it would be a prime opportunity for me to catch up..."

"Ouch," he clutched his hand to his chest as he moved out the front door ahead of her, letting her lock the door while he lugged the one-thousand-pound overnight bag. "You don't have any friends goin'? That hurts." He knew she didn't mean him, but he wanted to point out that he did want to spend time with her.

Shocked blue-gray eyes spun around to meet his. "I didn't mean..." She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. "Well," she raised one shoulder, "that is to say, I didn't want you to feel trapped into entertaining me..."

Laughing, he slung a loose arm over her shoulders, pulling her down the long hallway. "I never feel trapped, Bones." Realizing just how quickly the friendly, partner-safe hug was trying to morph into a more personal hold, Booth let his arm drop from her shoulders as soon as they reached the shiny stainless doors for the elevator. "But it's ok if you wanna just keep to yourself. I can find something to do on my own." He was afraid of pushing too hard, too soon. He was still feeling a little gun shy and uncertain of whether or not he was really ready to put himself out there, vulnerable to being hurt again.

Pondering Booth's comment, Brennan opted to remain silent and forced herself to smile softly, not wanting to give away her discomfort with not knowing their immediate future. She mentally told herself to simply wait and see what happened during the week. Secretly, she hoped that having some time away from their friends and immediate co-workers, immersed in an environment that promotes open honesty, they would be able to discuss 'them', if there was still a _real_ possibility of a 'them' worth discussing, but she knew she would have to wait to see how everything unfolded.

Stepping into the elevator, Booth eyed her sideways. "How about Mexican for dinner?"

She turned to look at him, surprised that he didn't just suggest they stop at the diner. "Sure, that would be fine."

He grinned. "I heard about a place just over the DC border that's supposed to be pretty kick-ass. I thought, since we're passing that way, we could go ahead and give 'em a try." He motioned for her to exit the elevator first and placed a hand loosely on her lower back as he nodded to the lobby attendant and Brennan bid the man good-bye, reminding him that she would be gone for a week.

The ride to the restaurant was uneventful except for typical Washington DC traffic. They fell into a comfortable banter as they discussed familiar, partner-safe topics. Once they were seated in the brightly-colored restaurant, Brennan sipped her iced tea and watched Booth, suddenly feeling a little nervous about the upcoming week.

"Do you think there will be any other consultants at the convention, Booth? Or will the other attendees all be agents?"

Chewing on a chip and salsa as he observed her carefully-constructed guard start to fix itself in place, he shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant. "I dunno, Bones." He took a drink and glanced around in thought, trying to think of a way to put her at ease. "I can't imagine I'm the only Special Agent paired with a non-FBI partner." He looked back into her pale, uncharacteristicly insecure blues. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Why?"

Brennan shrugged and took another drink, feeling parched at the idea of being thrown into a situation where she will know no one, and possibly be the only contractor among a sea of employees. She was used to being the one expert about whatever topic was up for discussion...but she knew that, as a non-employee, she would be the outcast and it was unnerving for her. "I was just curious if I would be the only one." She lowered her eyes so her partner wouldn't see her concern. "I don't want to be looked down upon." She had an instant imagery of saying something appropriate or incorrect, and embarrassing her partner in front of his colleagues. "I don't want to say or do anything wrong."

"Hey," he stretched across the table and covered her hand, "you don't have anything to worry about, Bones." When she raised her questioning eyes back up to him, he grinned. "I'm serious. You'll be fine. You've been to the Hoover plenty of times, you know that agents are just people. You've talked to plenty of them."

"But those agents either answer to you or have been forewarned about my awkwardness. They don't dare say anything derogatory." She tilted her head. "You threaten everyone who says stuff about me, Booth..."

"Damn right I do," he didn't look the least bit apologetic about his actions, "and I'll do it again." He sat forward again and pinned her with a hard stare. "Bones, what's the matter?"

"Booth, these are going to be _your _peers. The attendees will be fellow agents and, I assume, district directors and the like." She licked her lips nervously. "They won't know me. They won't know what I am or am not capable of. And they will more than likely question why you're partnered with someone like me." She took a deep breath and sighed. "My responses and answers will be direct reflections on you."

"Bones, you've never worried about this kinda stuff before. What the hell's going on?" He was concerned about her sudden and extremely unusual anxiety.

She searched his eyes, and saw a clarity there that gave her the strength to confess the fear at the forefront of her mind. "There will be agents there from other field offices...other regions…" She tilted her head. "What if you meet another agent with whom you'd rather be partnered?"

Booth nearly choked. "Are you shitting me? Bones," he shook his head and pushed the chips and salsa aside so he could reach his other hand across to sandwich her hands between his. "There is no way in hell that I'd find someone else I want as a partner. Period."

"But, Booth," she needed to make him realize that her inability to assimilate in a social environment could impede his success.

"_But nothin'_, Temperance," he squeezed her hands, "I want you to put this ridiculous notion out of your brilliant brain right now. You're smarter than that. Don't over-think this shit." He thought quickly, trying to find the right words. "Listen, Bones. We're going to this conference because it's _mandatory_. I'm not going there looking for a new partner, we aren't going there to let strangers interfere with our partnership or meddle in our business. We'll do all the required exercises, participate in only the bare minimum of the crummy workshops." He rolled his lips between his teeth and pinned her with a serious stare. "And you are gonna walk in there like you fucking belong there more than anyone else in that room. Our numbers might be down from where they were eighteen months ago, but you know what?"

Brennan simply waited, wide-eyed and listening intently.

"We still currently have one of the highest solve rates in history. _Right now_," he hit the table with his forefinger, "even in our slump, we are _still _the best, Bones." He wanted her to understand, needed her to believe him. "There is no way I'm gonna want another partner. There is nothing that you could do or say that would change my mind."

Brennan's tension dissipated almost immediately, she could clearly see that Booth was being perfectly honest. She suddenly felt foolish for allowing her imagination to get out of control. Blushing, she looked down at their hands and then back up into his deep eyes. "I know all that already, Booth. I don't know what is wrong with me..."

He shrugged and reluctantly pulled his hands back, just as their food arrived. "Sometimes even geniuses need to be reminded about the basics, Bones. That's why you have me..." He winked, flashing her a broad, typical Boothy charm-smile.

She laughed, toying with the idea of telling him that she wanted him for much more than reminding her of the basics, but then she thought better of it, opting instead to wait until she was certain they were on the same metaphorical page. Smiling, she tucked into her vegetarian burrito, realizing she was hungrier than she thought.

B/B/B/B

By the time they finished eating and arrived at the luxurious beach-side hotel in Virginia Beach, it was nearly eight o'clock. At the conference registration, Booth showed his ID and identified his partner with the seamless ease that came from working together for years. Once they had their room assignments, they found their way to the elevator and rode to the ninth floor.

"Wanna drop off our bags and then go back downstairs for a drink, Bones? We can go over the week's schedule and get an idea of which workshops look interesting enough to attend."

"Yes." She flashed her magnetic card at the pad beside the door. "Give me a few minutes, then I'll be ready."

Letting himself into his own room, he nodded and pushed into the darkened space. "M'kay, knock when you're ready." He closed the door behind him and did a quick survey of the upscale room, silently complimenting the FBI for reserving some decent digs for a change.

Once Brennan had unpacked, hanging the clothes she knew would wrinkle, she freshened up a little and walked to the door adjoining her room with her partner's. She hesitated only a moment, wondering if it would be more appropriate to walk out into the hallway and knock on his actual door, but chastised herself for being overly and unnecessarily cautious... After all, Booth had requested the adjoining rooms like they used to have whenever they were on assignment, so he shouldn't mind if she used them. Unlocking the deadbolt and swinging the door open, she was startled to see Booth's handsome face standing directly opposite her, opening his door at the same time.

"Oh," she stepped back slightly.

"Sorry, Bones, didn't mean to startle you." His eyes danced with his smile. "I was just opening the door so you'd know I was ready." He shrugged once and did a quick once-over at the space behind where she stood, seeing it was a mirror image of his own room and was void of any threats to his partner.

"Well, I'm ready," she smoothed her hand down one pant leg and held up the week's schedule in the other. "I have highlighters and a red pen so we can mark the sessions that look interesting." She handed him a blue marker and she kept the yellow for herself. "I assume the FBI would expect us to attend the sessions together, but if there is something that I am interested in and you are not, you can mark your choices with your own marker."

He chuckled at her precision and attention to detail for the convention that neither of them really wanted to attend. "Thanks, Bones... That's very thoughtful."

She nodded and backed away from the door, expecting him to follow through her room, and he did, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for them.

When they exited her room, Booth and Brennan ran smack into a pair of much younger men walking down the hallway. Booth recognized one man immediately as Robinson, a rookie agent recently assigned to the DC Field Office, and one he'd expected would be trouble. He read the newbie's file, among several others, when Cullen informed him that there would be a team of new agents joining the Major Crimes division two weeks prior. He didn't recognize the other young man, but knew he'd learn the unknown's identity soon enough. Side-stepping around the young agents with nothing more than a nod, Booth placed his hand on Brennan's back, guiding her around the duo and towards the the elevator. A mumbled statement that reached his ears across the growing distance between them and two of the newest members of the DC field office caused Booth to stop in his tracks.

**Postscript A/N **

**Yeah, I know...it wasn't very exciting, but there just *might* be an upcoming confrontation... *maybe*... **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N welcome back! This chapter was initially part of the previous chapter, but it was going to be such a monster size, I broke it into two. I hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: Still own nothing... Shocking, I know. **

"Well, shit," the cocky young agent nudged his companion as they passed Booth and Brennan in the hall. "Must be pretty sweet being the Special Agent _In Charge_ of Homicide and Major Crimes... He gets to bunk with his scientist... I bet he fulfills a hundred Sexy-Science-Teacher fantasies every night..." He snorted under his breath.

Jones snickered nervously at Robinson, not so much at the accusation, but instead at his arrogance. Also new to the DC region, Jones had heard things about Booth, but hadn't yet had the opportunity to meet or interact with the legendary investigator and **his** unconventional partner. Mostly, he had been warned by his older, more experienced partner, Walter Grady, to steer clear of the best producing team on the force until he had more field experience under his belt. He would have expected Robinson to've been warned as well, as he had been partnered with Agent Perotta after joining the local team. As rumor had it, Perotta occasionally worked with Booth's team of supposed geniuses. After hearing his friend make the comment, however, he now doubted his previous assumption.

Jones became friends with Robinson when they were at the Academy together, but he knew Robinson could be a pretty loose cannon, never knowing what his pal would say at inappropriate times. And while he liked Robinson as a person, he was starting to question just how healthy the friendship was; he didn't want his own reputation to be impacted just because he was friends with someone who lacked a social filter. Before he had a chance to even entertain the thought of passing on the tip his own partner had offered about Booth and Brennan, the Senior Agent was stepping quickly around them, blocking their path mid-stride

"You say somethin' to me, kid?" Booth's over-protective nature of Brennan combined with his higher ranking status within the organization of the DC Field Office was too much to suppress. When his towering presence closed in on the much younger man, Robinson cowered back, stumbling into his friend.

"Umm," he stammered. "No, Sir. I wasn't talking to you." A false bravado rose inside Robinson's chest, leading him on to think he could stand up to the older man... After all, they were off the clock; he didn't have to answer to anyone of higher standing.

"Oh, hmm," Booth grumbled and stepped closer, invading Robinson's personal space. "Say somethin' _about_ me, then?" Booth damn well heard the comment and he refused to allow these young punk-ass rookies to disrespect his partner. He noticed movement from the corner of his eye as Brennan stepped closer.

"Booth," she admonished gently. Her inner independent-self wanted to tell him off and remind him that she could take care of herself, that she didn't need an alpha-male defending her honor. But with her recent fantasies about having a personal relationship with Booth, her inner feminine-side spoke up and told her to simmer down and remain calm. "Don't scare the children. It appears as though they might suffer an involuntary incontinence of the bladder and/or bowels..." She tilted her head and gave them each a feigned look of concern. "Of course, that is most commonly associated with the final stages of a person's demise, or one who is plagued with loose muscular control of the anal or penile region. Given your approximate ages of," she gave them each an over-dramatic head-to-toe analysis, she made her call, "twenty-three and twenty-four, you should be concerned if you are suffering from incontinence." She folded her arms across her chest. "I am sure the FBI doesn't want junior agents who can't control their bodily functions during nothing more than a simple conversation in the hallway of a hotel... Just imagine what it will be like when you're out in the field, facing off with a criminal pointing a gun in your face..."

The young men eyed her warily, both shocked that she nailed their ages immediately.

"Hear that, boys?" Booth's lowered voice was so close it startled them, and they turned, finding themselves face to face with an angry pair of brown eyes. "My partner, there, is concerned for your health and well-being..." He cocked his head sideways, pinning his threatening gaze on the younger of the two men, the one he knew had made the comment. "Now, you're gonna apologize to my partner for disrespecting her. You're gonna introduce yourselves and thank her for her concern about your health. And," he glanced at Jones, since he was unfamiliar with him, "you're gonna tell _me_ who your Senior Partner is.."

Embarrassed at being ordered to apologize to a mere contracted liaison, and even more, at being called out in front of his friend, Robinson squared his shoulders. "I'm not apologizing to anyone. I wasn't talking to her, I was talking to my friend." The final word was strangled from this throat as, in the blink of an eye, Booth pinned him against the wall with a thick forearm pressed against his collarbones and throat.

"You were speaking disrespectfully about my partner. I don't like it when people do that... You will apologize now." As the pressure increased against the young man's suprasternal notch, his hazel eyes started to water.

Chancing a glance at the attractive woman who simply stood to the side, watching the confrontation unfold, he nodded slightly. "Fine!" He took a deep breath when Booth finally lessened the pressure. "I'm sorry if I offended you," he grunted unapologetically. "My name is Brandon Robinson, thanks for your concern." His statement was anything but thankful and when he turned to Booth, Brennan called him out on his insincerity.

"What you're actually sorry about is getting caught by Booth, and what you are truly thankful for is that he hasn't beaten you within a metaphorical inch of your life." She knew Booth wouldn't actually strike Robinson for the comment, but she was certain he would scare the younger man. When the immature, inexperienced agent tried to measure Booth's strength visually, she interrupted his train of thought. "I've seen Booth break down a man who was thirty-two percent larger than himself. I assure you, he could break you down, too."

Booth smirked and leaned her way. "_Take_ down, Bones. Not _break_ down."

"Oh, right. Thanks." She nodded in appreciation before turning back to Robinson, staring at him silently, knowing that she made people uncomfortable when she glared.

Toying with the idea of making another snide remark, Robinson rethought his strategy and stubbornly pressed his lips together. He was startled when his friend spoke unprompted.

"My names is Billy Jones." He first directed his statement to Brennan. "While I didn't actually say anything, I'm sorry that you were offended." He swallowed thickly. "I'm surprised to see you here for the conference, actually. From what I've heard you two are the tightest partners on the whole east coast."

Brennan eyed him carefully and, while still trying to hone her skills at people-reading, she was fairly certain that this man was being truthful. She nodded in acceptance and introduced herself in turn. "Well, then, you must already know that my name is Dr. Temperance Brennan." She extended her hand awkwardly and shook his outstretched palm. "And yes, we are tight, but one never turns down the opportunity to improve. So when this conference had another opening, we accepted." She was telling a bold-face lie, which is something she didn't like to do, but she didn't want the young agents to disrespect her partner or his leadership skills. She would never throw her partner under the metaphorical bus, so she recalled and acted upon Angela's advice from long ago, that is was acceptable to tell a tiny lie if it was to benefit someone you cared about.

Booth was proud of his partner for her willingness to accept the other man's apology at face value. He, too, thought that Jones was being honest with his apology. When Billy turned to Booth, he continued. "My partner is Agent Walter Grady, I've been assigned to work in Hostage Negotiations Technology. I am a sound engineer."

Booth extended his hand and shook Jones' firmly, his much larger hand engulfing the techie's thin fingers and narrow bone structure. "So, you report up to Ryan, then... That's why I didn't recognize you. Your file hadn't crossed my desk yet." Releasing his grip, he nodded. "Welcome aboard. Keep your nose clean, kid." Recognizing that Jones had his own reservations about his association with the other newbie, he simply clapped the man on the shoulder with an open hand. He turned back to Robinson and stepped closer.

"Now, you... I've seen your file. You're one of mine," his grin was almost sadistic. "You might not know me yet, but I know all about you, Robinson." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he flashed his Cocky belt buckle. "I know that Cullen took you for Major Crimes because none of the other field offices in the Northeast wanted you..." He had Robinson's full attention. "I know that you have a file from the Academy two inches thick, and I've read every single entry in there..." Booth didn't need to remind the young agent that his portfolio contained countless complaints from fellow students, write-ups from professors and Senior Agents, and, perhaps most concerning, two grievance reports of Sexual Harassment. "Now, I'm not sure what you expect to get out of working for the FBI, and I don't know how you even passed the exam, but if you're gonna make it in _my_ division, you'll need to straighten your ass up."

Robinson clenched his jaw, angry that he was being called out in front of his friend. "You don't know shit, Agent Booth."

Rolling back onto his heels, he looked at his feet and chuckled darkly as he raised his eyes again. "See, that's where you're wrong, kid. I know a lot. I know that you were partnered with Perotta, and I promise you, if you pull any shit with her, your ass will be out on the street so fast your head'll spin. There was a reason I recommended that Cullen partner you with her." His leer turned menacing. "In case you don't know, after you answer to Perotta, you answer to me, Little Man. And if there is one person in this entire force that you don't want to piss off, it's me. Now," giving him another chance, "apologize again. And say it like you mean it this time."

Rolling his options around in his mind, Robinson realized that he would have to walk the straight and narrow with Booth, and he was more than a little pissed that his pal seemed to know more about Booth and Brennan than he knew himself. He turned to Brennan and nodded once. "I'm sorry if my joke was offensive, Dr. Brennan." Wanting this little interaction to be over as quickly as possible, he extended his hand hastily. "And I'm sorry it was under these circumstances that we met, but it is nice to meet you."

Shaking his hand stiffly, her face remained stoic. "Of course."

When Booth watched his partner extract her hand from Robinson's grasp, he felt a pang of discomfort in his gut. She would tell him it was indigestion, but his gut feeling was telling him something. With silent determination, he vowed to keep a close eye on Robinson and, even though he knew Cullen had spoken to Perotta about the rookie's past, Booth decided he would have a word with her as well.

"C'mon, Bones. Let's go get that drink." He placed his open hand against the small of her back, urging her to continue down the hallway, away from the new recruits.

When Robinson and Jones watched the senior partners enter the elevator, the looked at each other. "They didn't disagree, so they must be sleeping together..." Robinson's lips curled into a grin, thinking that he, too, could get lucky if the FBI rules were not as rigid as they'd been led to believe.

Once they were alone inside the elevator carriage, Brennan glanced sideways at Booth. "You didn't correct their assumption, Booth. They probably still think we are sharing a room."

"I don't really give two shits what they think, Bones. They don't know jack."

"Why would they know Jack? I highly doubt either of them would have cause to interact with forensic scientists..."

Booth flashed his only-for-Bones-smile, happy to explain another colloquialism to his socially awkward partner.

B/B/B/B

The lobby lounge was buzzing with activity. There was a piano player in the corner surrounded by a handful of swooning women tossing crumpled bills into his tip jar while displaying generous amounts of cleavage for the young musician to enjoy. The bar stools were all occupied, as were several tables scattered around the tiny dance floor. Most of the tables contained standing room only as agents and guests reunited after who-knows-how-long they'd been apart. Spying a table on the far side of the bar, Booth nodded and urged his partner in the direction, hoping to claim it before someone else did. As soon as they approached the high-top, a waitress was there with her tray, taking their drink order and placing a bowl of nuts and pretzels in the center of the table.

"Booth!" A voice bellowed from somewhere behind the agent and he turned in his seat, smiling as soon as he saw the source.

"Gray! How the hell are ya?" Booth pushed up and shook the man's hand firmly, a big smile spreading across his features.

"I'm great, man!" The tall man smiled back. "It's so good to see you. It's been, what, about eleven years?"

"Christ," Booth realized his friend was probably right in his estimation. "Good thing we're not gettin' any older, huh?" He laughed and clapped his colleague on the shoulder, bringing him closer. "Gray, I want you to meet my partner," Booth's beaming smile grew exponentially when he turned to Brennan. "This here is Dr. Temperance Brennan, of the Jeffersonian Institute." The introduction rolled off his tongue with familiar ease and he moved to stand closer to her.

"Bones," he draped his arm across the back of her chair, "this is Marcus Gray. He and I were in the Academy together and we worked a few cases before he moved outta DC and down to South Carolina." He looked at his partner with a good-humored grin. "This guy was almost my partner," he winked playfully, "but I got the better end of the deal when he jumped ship to take a position in the Columbia field office."

Brennan blushed at Booth's blatant compliment and she extended her hand to the attractive man. "It's very nice to meet you, Agent Gray."

Grasping her hand in his much larger palm, Marcus smiled, charmed at the woman's striking beauty, and shook his head. "Oh, hell, please call me Marcus." He was mesmerized by her extraordinary eyes and warm smile. "It is a real pleasure to meet you, Dr. Brennan," he held her hand a little longer than necessary, reluctant to break contact. When he felt Booth's eyes boring into the side of his head, Marcus snapped out of his daze, releasing Brennan and turning to Booth with a friendly smile. "I sure hope you're nicer to her than you were to me, you controlling sonofabitch," he joked.

Booth laughed in response. "I have to be nicer to her, Gray. Unlike you, she's actually tough enough to kick my ass."

His old friend took the retort with grace and nodded with reverence to Brennan. "Good for you, Dr. Brennan," he winked, "this guy needs someone to keep him in line."

Uncertain to which line Marcus was referring, but not wanting to interrupt the jovial reunion between her partner and his friend, she simply smiled and nodded, taking the opportunity to glance around at the other patrons. She was brought back into Booth and Marcus' conversation when Booth touched her shoulder, holding up his phone.

"It's Parker," he looked concerned. "I'm just gonna step out into the hall so I can hear him. I'll be right back."

Brennan nodded, glancing at her watch and realizing that it was quite late for Parker to be calling, she watched Booth as he wove through the crowd back out into the hall. When Marcus took Booth's chair at her side, she turned at looked at him with a forced smile. She recognized that he was a very handsome man - tall, with an impressive build, dark skin and eyes, and a close-cut hairstyle that reminded her of Booth's when he left for Afghanistan. Regardless of his good looks, however, Brennan couldn't help but compare him to Booth and, even though she was sure there was a time when she would have been easily charmed by the man, she quickly assessed that he didn't compare with her partner. Feeling awkward at the silence that settled over the tiny table since Booth's swift exit, she shifted in her seat and smiled stiffly.

"You needn't feel obligated to stay until Booth returns, Marcus, I am quite comfortable with my own company. I am sure there are others here with whom you'd rather associate." Brennan looked around again, seeing groups of people happily reuniting with one another and laughing at inside jokes stemming from common histories. She turned her cool blue eyes back to him and was startled to see he was watching her rather than seeking out other known persons.

The handsome man leaned forward, resting his forearms atop the table and pinned Brennan with a curious smile. "So, Dr. Brennan," he wondered if she would correct him and permit him to call her by her first name, but she didn't interrupt. "You and Booth stem from vastly different fields of expertise... How do you like working with him?"

She smiled, unable to stop the blush from creeping into her cheeks at the idea of discussing her opinion of working with Booth. "I have enjoyed our partnership." She shifted in her seat to better face the man questioning her, suddenly keen to talk. "While what you say is true, Booth and I have differing backgrounds, the large degree of varying experiences and knowledge is what makes us so successful." Her tone of voice took on that of an educator's, as if she were speaking to a gathering of people as opposed to a solitary man. "Booth has precise skills that he has honed over years of hands-on experience. And I possess knowledge to which he would not have exposure in his line of work. The partnership forged between the FBI and the Jeffersonian Institute has been mutually beneficial in the sense that the FBI has fewer cold cases from the onset and the institute's Medico-Legal lab has been the recipient of attention that it would not have otherwise received."

Marcus studied the woman as she spoke, admiring her authoritative tone, her confidence and, not least of all, her sexuality. He couldn't stop his eyes from skimming across her creamy pale features and settling on her lips, concentrating on their rosiness and gentle shape as she formed her words. When she paused in her dissertation, he impulsively leaned closer to talk.

"And I suppose all the attention your lab gets results in generous contributions from wealthy donors." His dark eyes dropped to her mouth again as she responded.

"Indeed, it has increased our bottom line. And those donations have improved our working environment exponentially in the form of state-of-the-art equipment and our pick of the top-most qualified and potentially successful interns the country has to offer." She smiled as she thought about their team and she glanced around just in time to see Booth re-enter the room across the distance, bringing a healthy blush to her cheeks before she turned back to the man sharing her table. "Our team is the best in the country. We have streamlined our processes, recruited some of the top scientists in the world, and we've maintained the most cohesive working partnerships and relationships I have ever seen." Her smile broadened. "It is a privilege to work with Booth."

"You are beautiful," Marcus blurted out, his social filter dulled by the preceding glasses of free flowing liquor from the bar.

Brennan was startled and refocused her attention on the man as she squared her shoulders, leaning slightly away from him but not wanting to make a scene. "Yes, I know."

Before she could respond to the man' burst of laughter, Booth was at her side, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"Parker had a nightmare and wouldn't settle down for Becs." Handing her the phone, he winked, "he wants to talk to you too."

Pushing up from her seat without further ado, she grabbed the phone from Booth's hand and held it up to her ear as she walked out into the hallway, away from the noise of the lounge and, even more important, away from the unexpected attentions of Marcus Gray. "Parker? It's Bones. Tell me what happened..."

Booth watched his partner exit the room before sliding onto her stool and waving to the waitress for a refill. "So," he turned back to Marcus, "how are things in the sunny South?"

"Not bad, Booth," he took a long drawl of his beer and gladly accepted the next as the waitress placed refills for them both on the table. He swiveled his eyes towards the open doorway leading to the hall, where Brennan could still be seen talking on the phone. "I dare say, things aren't as good with me as they are with you..."

Following Marcus' line of sight, Booth chuckled. "She's great, isn't she? Don't get me wrong, man," he looked back at his friend, "I enjoyed working with you... But Bones is an amazing partner."

"Aww, c'mon, man, you call her _Bones_? What the hell kinda name is that for a looker like her?"

Smiling at the memory of how Brennan hated her nickname for the longest time before finally warming up to it, Booth shook his head. "She likes it. Studying bones is her thing, y'know? So it's a perfect name."

From the corner of his eye, Booth could see that Brennan was wrapping up the conversation with Parker as she turned back towards the lounge. When he turned to face her fully, he could read her lips telling his son good night and that she loves him. It made Booth's heart swell with pride for his partner that she was so open with his boy, despite thinking that was was not good with children.

"Well," Marcus also watched the woman, "she sure as hell doesn't suffer from the burden of modesty, does she?" He chuckled and looked back at Booth, who was also laughing and looking to his friend for an explanation. "She was bragging about your team, about her lab rats, y'know? And I was just so taken with her, with the the way she talks and that pale skin, I told her she is beautiful." Marcus watched carefully as Booth's laughter died down. "Don't worry man, she didn't take the bait," he could read Booth like a book, whether the Special Agent liked it or not. "Anyway," he brushed passed the awkward sensation that had fallen over the table, "she told me she knows!" He laughed and felt a wash of relief as Booth laughed as well.

"Well yeah, she does know it." Booth chuckled and watched as she was finally crossing the room towards them. "But what she doesn't know is what an amazing person she is..." He stood up as she approached and offered her the seat once again.

Handing him the phone, she accepted the stool and smiled at Marcus again. "Sorry to run off in the middle of our conversation," she watched as Booth turned in place and grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table, "but it was a very important call."

Booth turned back and sat down, pushing Brennan's drink closer to her. "Thanks for talking to him, Bones."

Marcus watched as she smiled back warmly, nodding as she accepted her drink. "It seems the older he gets, the worse his dreams get."

Booth agreed sadly. "Yeah, well, he is starting to realize the danger we face in our work now. He's a little too smart for his own good."

Listening to the conversation, Marcus looked back over at Booth. "Is this your kid you're talking about?"

Booth nodded. "Yeah. When he has these damn nightmares, he doesn't calm down for Rebecca until after I talk to him. Sometimes his dreams include Bones, as well." He threw back the rest of his drink and reached into the bowl for some pretzels. "He has grown quite attached to Bones," he added with a grin, "she's turning my kid into a squint."

Brennan ignored Booth's playful wink and rolled her eyes, grabbing the schedule off the table and opening it up.

"What the hell is a squint?" Marcus' eyes volleyed between the smirking partners and settled on Booth for an explanation.

The three laughed at Booth's description and imitation of a squint as their drinks were refilled. Gradually, other attendees gravitated towards their table, many anxious to see Booth after not seeing him at previous conventions for the past several years. Others seemed more interested in the contracted partner who had helped Booth move so quickly up the ranks of the Major Crimes Division. As the crowd thickened around them, Booth moved his stool closer to Brennan, bumping her shoulder affectionately as she cautiously participated in various conversations. He could see she was guarded, answering some questions with carefully chosen words and phrases, avoiding others by deferring to her partner for guidance. Overall, however, Booth was proud of Brennan. She was handling the onslaught of questions with grace and temperament, appearing completely at ease to those who didn't know her.

By the time Brennan had lost count of the number of refills Booth had ingested, she, herself, having stopped drinking long before, he was regaling the crowd with stories of lab experiments gone awry, much to the enjoyment of those in attendance. She had abandoned all hope of figuring out their schedule for the week and folded the papers, slipping them into her back pocket with the markers and pen. She was content to watch and listen, observing her partner in his element. She realized that he really was 'one of those guys', as Angela had once described... He was the kind of guy around whom people flocked, pressing in close in hopes of catching his handsome smile flashing their way, partaking in his conversation, or at the very least, absorbing some of his infectious energy. She found herself hypnotized by the ease with which he worked the crowd, and she couldn't help leaning closer to him, not the slightest bit immune to the same desires as those surrounding them.

From time to time he would reach over and drape his arm over her chair back, brushing her shoulders with his fingertips as he spoke. The barely-there caresses seemed to tell Brennan that he was still with her, that even though he was conversing with a dozen people she had never met, he hadn't forgotten she was sitting at his side. The simple touches were more than welcome, calming the occasional flutters that erupted in her abdomen whenever a woman would step too close for her liking (though she reminded herself that she still had no right to feel jealous), or when she started to feel out of place, unable to relive tests and trials they had all experienced in the Academy.

When Booth's palm felt Brennan stifle a yawn, he turned and looked at her, immediately tuning out the conversation happening around them. He leaned closer, eyeing her through slightly blurry vision, and nudged her shoulder gently. "Tired?"

"Yes," Brennan knew he would walk her upstairs if she wanted him to, but she hated to pull him away from the party atmosphere, seeing how much he was enjoying himself. "I think I'm going to head upstairs. You stay and finish talking with your friends, Booth. I'll see you in the morning," she started to push her chair back from the table, so she could stand.

"Nah," he, too, pushed back. "I'm ready to turn in, too. It's been a helluva week." He pulled her chair out the rest of the way for her. "We'll see all these folks again tomorrow... And the next day..." When someone groaned that the center of their entertainment was leaving, the side conversations ceased and all eyes turned to Booth and Brennan.

"You're not leaving yet, are ya, Booth?" The man who asked had been introduced to Brennan simply as Smitty. "You turnin' into a lightweight in your old age? Can't handle the liquor?"

"Ah, fuck you, Smitty," Booth retorted in good nature. "Some of us are just smart enough to to know when to stop, that's all." He winked at his colleague. "You'll see... Tomorrow morning you'll be dying and I'll be enjoying breakfast on the beach with my partner." He placed a hand on Brennan's back and started to usher her around the group, saying goodnight as they moved.

The crowd, mostly the men, we're all anxious to say goodnight to Brennan specifically, moving in front of her for a handshake or a smile, telling her how nice it was to meet her and how they're looking forward to seeing more of her during the conference. To her credit, the anthropologist handled the attention well, but mostly because she knew Booth was right there at her side the whole time. When Marcus stopped her and wrapped her in a huge bear hug, however, she stiffened immediately, not at all ignorant of the stares that he had been casting her way throughout the evening.

Booth, too, was perfectly aware of the longing glances his former colleague had been throwing at his partner as the night wore on, and he was less than happy about it. Seeing that Brennan was unappreciative of the embrace, he stood directly behind her and grabbed Marcus' hands, prying them apart and away from his partner's body. "Easy, there, Gray... She don't like being touched." His no-nonsense Philly accent was suddenly thick and his eyes deadpanned on the taller man over Brennan's shoulder. He released Gray's wrists once he was certain the notorious playboy wasn't going to make another move to touch Brennan.

The gathering of people had grown instantly silent at the positioning of the two men, all eyes were on the subtle interaction between the three. Brennan moved away from Marcus slightly, only to back into Booth's solid frame as he stood behind her. She didn't want to make a scene, and she certainly didn't want to be the cause for Booth's good humor that she had been enjoying all evening to dissipate. With a stiff nod, she looked at Marcus, trying to deflect the attention to herself rather than the metaphoric stand-off that was silently occurring.

"Good night, Marcus. It was really nice meeting you," she met his eyes as they swiveled away from Booth. "I'm just really tired, so if you'll excuse me." She stepped around him, moving through the parting crowd, feeling Booth's close proximity stay in step until suddenly he wasn't right behind her anymore. Turning around, she saw Booth leaning close to Marcus, whispering something not meant for other ears, though it didn't stop those close-by from trying to listen. Her expert eye took in his tense posture and knew he was upset with his former partner, though she didn't know exactly what was being said. She waited until the men pulled apart and Booth looked up at the slightly taller man, receiving a nod of what appeared to be an apology from Gray. When he moved back over to where she waited, her partner was once again smiling at those who were bidding them goodnight and the scientist allowed herself to be ushered by the familiar pressure of his hand on her lower back until they were out in the hall.

"I guess we'll just have to figure out the schedule tomorrow, Bones," Booth mentioned as they stepped into the elevator. "I didn't realize it would be so crazy down there, sorry about that." He stood close, inhaling her sweet perfume through his partially-drunken haze.

"You don't need to apologize, Booth," she blushed when she saw his eyes darken as his nostrils flared. "I had a nice time. Your friends are quite amusing." She exited the elevator, his hand firmly planted low on her back, lower than usual. "And I enjoyed hearing some of the stories about you back in the Academy." as they approached their room, she glanced at him. "So breakfast at 7:00?" Brennan said as she opened her room.

"Yeah," he agreed. "That'll give us plenty of time to eat before orientation at 8:30." He unlocked his own door and they silently agreed to continue their conversation inside, since their connecting doors were still open. "Will it bother you if I watch ESPN for a bit, Bones? I wanna see what happened with the game tonight. And just kinda unwind." He asked as he moved through his own room, knowing she could hear him clearly.

"No." She was pulling a night shirt from the drawer where she'd placed it earlier. "I am going to read for a while, so I won't be sleeping yet."

"Ok," he smiled to himself, recognizing just how domestic this conversation was, though they were in different rooms. He stepped into the bathroom to change and wash up for bed. When he re-entered his room, he was more than a little surprised to see Brennan examining the contents of his suitcase, which remained mostly unpacked, sitting in the middle of the king size bed. "Y'know...this rooting-through-my-suitcase-thing you do is startin' to become a habit, Bones..." He grinned.

"The FBI shirt you gave me-"

"You mean the one you _stole_," he interrupted with a twinkle in his eye.

She ignored his remark and continued undeterred. "The shirt was dirty, and I didn't do laundry before I packed... And the shirt I brought with me isn't as comfortable..." Her facial expression was priceless and Booth had to struggle to maintain a neutral reaction to her scowl. Her pale features were a mix of embarrassment at being caught snooping, and mutinous determination to find an emergency replacement for what he knew had quickly become her favorite lounging shirt.

"And...?" He couldn't help but tease her, so he did what he did best... He played dumb.

"And," she thought carefully about her answer. "You know that I like the FBI t-shirts... They are very comfortable. The cotton weave is a pleasant count, perfect for relaxing..."

"Bones," he walked over to his bag and started digging down to the bottom of the pile. "I just bought you three of your own shirts last week when we came back from Jersey... The special women's cut style..."

"Yes, I know. I thanked you several times, Booth. And I do wear them, they are excellent shirts to wear when I workout..." She watched with bated breath to see what he was going to pull out from his nondescript black rolling bag. "But, they are not as comfortable as yours..." The words eked out in more of a plea than a statement.

He wrapped his fingers around the soft material she was just praising and pulled it out, upsetting the arrangement if his other clothes in the process, but not even caring, because his Bones was gonna be wearing his shirt to bed that night... The boys in the hall were not far off when they said he fulfilled Sexy-Scientist fantasies on a regular basis. While they were out of line saying it, Booth couldn't lie to himself about his own fantasies.

"Good thing I always pack extra t-shirts..." He smiled and handed the garment to her and was rewarded with a radiant smile of thanks.

Her smile turned impish when she clutched the dark gray article to her chest possessively. "You always over-pack, Booth. You pack more than Angela does for a week away from home."

"Oh no, you didn't," he teased and reached for the shirt with absolutely no intention of actually taking it away from her. "You can't make fun of my packing habits and then expect me to let you steal my clothes, Bones," he laughed as she turned her back to him, rolling her shoulders inward to stop him from getting the shirt as he reached around her.

"My point," she let out a loud, chesty laugh, "is that you won't miss this singular article of clothing! You have plenty more!" She laughed harder when he spanned his hands around her waist and tickled. "I'll give it back to you after we return home and I've laundered it!" Her laughing turned to gasps as she writhed in his grasp.

Getting more than a little turned on at the feel of her body beneath his hands, he playfully tried to maneuver her further from him bed, thus further away from temptation. "Oh my God, you're unbelievable, Bones!" He spoke against the back of her head, happily inhaling her sweet scent. "I'll never see that shirt again, and you know it... It'll be lost in the never-ending collection of clothes that you've confiscated from me. Just like all the others..."

Suddenly worried that she had crossed some barrier that they we not yet prepared to cross, the anthropologist stiffened under his touch. "Booth?" Her tone was suddenly serious, almost scared.

Releasing her immediately, concerned that he had been too physical with her in their present state of partnership, he, too, grew solemn. "What is it, Bones?" He took her shoulders in his hands and turned her to face him. When he saw the uncertainty in her eyes he felt a wave of guilt at putting it there.

"I don't need it," she extended her hand, giving him the shirt back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. It is my own fault for neglecting my laundry for three days rather than just dealing with it."

"Bones," he gently pushed the shirt back to her. "I was just teasing. Keep it, it's ok." He saw her sharp intake of breath and recognized it as her preparation to rebut his offer. "Seriously, Bones. Look," he released her shoulders and moved back to his suitcase, extracting the piled of shirts from its depths. "I have another." He held up an exact replica of the one he had just given to her. "I packed an extra just in case..."

A single shrug as his cheeks filled with a crimson blush was all the answer she needed... She knew he had expected her to steal a shirt. It had been over a year since they had traveled together on a work-related matter, and he still knew her better than anyone else.

Anxious for her to believe him, he reached into the pile again, and pulled yet another FBI shirt from the stack. "In fact, I brought two extras... But this one has holes in it... It's the one I use when I go to the gym."

She smiled at his honesty and hugged the shirt to herself again. "Thank you, Booth." She felt her own cheeks grow warm in reaction to his offering.

"You're welcome, Bones." His charm smile barely peeked out from behind his kind, pleading expression. "Don't ever think that you need to return items to me. Unless I tell you upfront that I need something back, whatever I hand to you, whatever I offer, you're welcome to keep."

There was an undercurrent of tension that Brennan didn't fully understand. She felt a deeper connection to her partner than she ever felt towards anyone in her life. She knew, without a doubt that she had been attracted to him for years, she fought against it and had finally admitted to herself that she lost that fight. She couldn't lie to herself and say it was a one-way street, because she knew he was attracted to her as well. He had offered her everything on that fateful night on the steps of the Hoover. He had offered her thirty, forty, fifty years, and she shoved it all back at him with both hands, refusing it with her eyes metaphorically squeezed tight, without really stopping to consider what her refusal would do to their relationship.

And here they were, over a year later, after they'd run from each other, pushed one another away after returning from opposite ends of the world, and yet still fought to remain partners. They were struggling to reignite the magic they once had, which was ultimately why they were forced to attend the conference. But in that split moment when his hands spanned her waist, and his breath was seeping through her loose curls when he spoke against the back of her head, she felt it... She felt the spark that she'd been missing for more than fifteen months and it caused her heart to race, her breaths to become shallow and her body to hum. And she was terrified of doing something that would make those feelings go away again.

Booth searched her eyes, unable to read what she was thinking and he felt unnerved by his inability to pinpoint her exact thoughts anymore. There were still plenty of times that he could read her like a book, but then there were others, moments like the one they were sharing right then, that he couldn't make heads nor tails of her brilliant noggin. Wanting to lighten the sudden tension surrounding them, he raised one side of his mouth into a smile. "I never knew you were ticklish, Bones..."

Feeling instantly at ease, she let out a laugh. "Until tonight, until just that moment, I was not ticklish..."

He burst out laughing, throwing his head back to allow himself a brief second to relish in the fact that he did something to her that no one else had ever done. "Sure you were, Bones," he backed over to his suitcase again, pulling the rest of his clothing from their formerly neat stacks so he could hang everything up. "You probably just forgot. I imagine Russ would have tickled you when you were kids."

Taking two of the shirts from the pile, she moved over to the closet and started to hang them up for him while he put other items into a drawer. "He tried to tickle me once," she reminisced as she reached for another shirt to hang.

When she didn't continue her story, Booth turned from the dresser and looked at her expectantly. "And?"

"And I kicked him in the testicles because I didn't like the feeling." Her story was concise and unapologetic as she smoothed her hand over an invisible wrinkle in the dark gray slacks that he had already hung up.

Booth picked up his now-empty bag to stow it in the closet, but held it in front of himself protectively. "Umm," he swallowed thickly. "Thanks for, y'know, not kicking me in the... Y'know..." His face flushed a deeper shade of red than earlier, and there was no stopping it, much to his displeasure.

She laughed. "Testicles, Booth. You can say it. Hell, I've heard you call them worse when you were playing hockey..." She sat on the edge of his bed, not even thinking about the fact that she was more comfortable sitting in his room than she was in her own. "I believe your exact words to the other team's Enforcer that night were '_I'm gonna knock this puck into your fucking nut sack so hard you'll be swallowin' 'round your balls for weeks if you don't pull your head outta your ass long enough to see the shit your fuckface teammates are tryin' on my guys_'..." Brennan paused for a moment, considering her partner's behavior when he engaged in sports. "You know, Booth, I've noticed at your Philadelphia dialect becomes far more pronounced when you are at war with an opposing team... Anthropologically speaking, ancient warriors..."

"Bones!" He interrupted her squint-lecture about warriors and who-knows-what to admonish her. "You shouldn't talk like that! What the hell?" He was shocked, number one, that she could remember his exact phrasing, and number two, he was perhaps more shocked that she would regale him with a shockingly accurate imitation of his accent.

"Those aren't my words, Booth... They were yours. Precisely." She tilted her head. "Remember, I have an eidetic memory..." She thought for a moment. "The date was..."

"Bones, I don't need to know the date..." He had to laugh. Only his partner would pull something he said years ago, during a freaking hockey game, out of her ass to use it against him when he refused to say the word 'testicles.' "Just..." He flopped down next to her, tossing his bag unceremoniously into the closet beneath his hanging clothes. "Thanks for not kicking me in the balls when I tickled you," he grinned and bumped her shoulder with his when she laughed.

"You're welcome." She bumped him back, but remained leaning against him, arm-to-arm, facing the open closet. "I didn't realize when I was a child just how damaging that action could be for a male... I would never use it on you." She let her head fall to the broadness of his shoulder and sighed at the comfort she drew from just being near.

Booth, too, was content simply sitting beside her, feeling her familiar, yet almost forgotten weight leaning against him. "Good to know," he said quietly as he risked a move he hadn't done since long before asking her to take a chance with him; he rested his cheek against the top of her head, letting himself inhale slowly, taking in the scent he had missed so terribly that he physically ached for it for months after arriving in Afghanistan. The previous week in Atlantic City had seemed like a dream - the combination of his anger, his struggle with addiction and the several beers he drank that night had dulled his senses, making his memories of having her near feel almost like a fantasy. But in that moment, in the comfortable silence of his room, he felt like things were on the right track, for perhaps, the first time in his adult life.

"Booth?" She broke the silence after several moments.

"'Hmm?" He remained as he was, not feeling her shift to move yet.

"Do you think..." She looked down at her hands where the still clutched the shirt he gave her. "Well, I know that we talked a little in Atlantic City, but….can you foresee a time in the future when we can be like we used to be?"

"Well... I guess it all depends on how far back you're talking about going... You mean before we officially became partners? Or the way we were before we ran away from each other?" It was the first time either of them had actually verbalized the truth of what had happened... The had _run. _From _each other_. To opposite ends of the earth. And the center crumbled, taking with it all the outer shells and circles that orbited around them.

Gently raising her head from his shoulder, forcing him to lift his cheek from her, Brennan turned her slate gray eyes up at her partner. "The way we were before we went our separate ways..."

"I hope so, Bones." His answer was honest without making empty promises. "We have a lot of work to do… But I really hope so."

She nodded and searched his handsome features. "I hope so, too."

Knowing that the whole point of attending the conference was to reopen their stunted lines of communication, and seeing the hope carefully veiled behind her beautiful eyes, Booth took a risk he wasn't certain he was ready to do yet. "I want to get back to where I'm not afraid of pushing you away, Bones. I wanna be able to tell you things without jeopardizing the partnership that we've built, and I want to see you lose your fear of opening your heart." Seeing a flash of uncertainty cross her face, he softened the edges of his declaration. "You have a huge, loving heart, Bones, whether you believe it or not; I know it's the truth. And when you figure it out for yourself, then you let me know, ok? No pressure, I promise."

Relief spread through her body, and the change in her carefully guarded expression was all the proof he needed to know she was onboard with taking this journey at his side.

"We should get some sleep, Bones. We don't know how busy tomorrow will be." Booth was tired and could see her face had been etched with exhaustion from her week of prepping to be away.

"Yes, of course." She pushed up from her perch and headed to the open door connecting their rooms. "Goodnight, Booth," she glanced over her shoulder.

"Night, Bones." He stood at the bedside, smiling warmly at her. "Let me know if you need anything."

He didn't spend very long watching TV, and shortly after he turned off the sports recap, he heard the light switch in her room click off as well. The agent lay quietly until the quiet puffs of her steady breaths reached his ears, indicating she was asleep. He turned on his side and let his lids fall closed, content in knowing his partner was close, and that they seemed to be on the same page as far as their personal relationship was concerned.

**Postscript A/N.**

**peace &amp; love, my friends**

**~jazzy**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N Hello and welcome back! **

**YAY! Bones S11 is in our future! I don't think it's a surprise to anyone that I was doubting the possibility of a renewal, but I am pleasantly gobsmacked! Congrats to the cast &amp; crew of the show for making this milestone happen. **

**Thank you all, once again, for your continued support of my little tale. This chapter actually diverts from my original plan for Chapter 10; I had a character enter my imagination that I wanted to introduce, so I had to make amends to my original plan to make it work. I hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer…...really? Is there any doubt that I don't own Bones? **

The partners entered the large conference room and glanced around at the diverse gathering of FBI Agents. Nodding at a small huddle of newbies who waved nervously at the infamous pair, Booth placed his open palm against Brennan's lower back and ushered her forward, aiming for a group of Senior Agents with whom Booth was comfortable socializing.

"C'mon, Bones," he muttered as he straightened his unwelcome name tag. "I'll introduce you to a few people."

Nodding at some attendees she recognized from the night before, Brennan allowed herself to be guided by the familiar pressure of his wide palm against the small of her back as she tried to slow her racing heart. She had missed Booth's touch when they parted ways. Since their respective returns to DC, and his relationship with Hannah, which intruded into their world, leaving him feeling ripped and torn, he had limited his physical contact with Brennan, opting instead to remain at a cautious distance as he licked his metaphorical wounds. It wasn't until she didn't have it that the anthropologist realized she missed it. Although the past week and a half had been getting better, especially those moments when they were alone and comfortable enough to speak openly, having his touch in public still gave her a rush.

"Rick," Booth removed his hand, shaking Brennan from her silent musings. Gripping the outstretched hand as they approached, Booth shifted his weight slightly to be sure to include Brennan in the circle of agents. Squaring his shoulders to stand a little taller against the slightly younger man he approached, Booth tilted his head and brought his hand back to the center of Brennan's shoulders. "This here is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian Institute. I don't think you've met her yet." Turning his eyes back to his partner, he continued. "Bones, this is Rick Thompson, Special Agent in Charge of Cyber Crimes. He and I went to the Academy together, but don't usually run into each other these days."

Accepting the stranger's handshake, Brennan smiled cordially, immediately comparing this other man to her partner. "Good morning, Agent Thompson."

"Ahh," he smirked as he admired his friend's partner. "Call me Rick, please, Temperance. 'Agent Thompson' sounds so formal..." He grinned solicitously as he admired her figure through his peripheral scope, his eyes never leaving her pale blues, which fascinated him.

"As you wish, Rick. You may address me as Dr. Brennan," she reclaimed her hand and conspicuously tried to wipe it against her pant leg, not appreciating the clamminess that had transferred from Rick.

Booth rocked forward on the balls of his feet, studying the toes of his shoes with interest as he tried to hide his smile. When he glanced up, he saw that Thompson was looking stunned, unsure of what had just occurred.

Taking pity on his comrade, he tried to ease the palpable discomfort. "Don't take it so hard, Rick," Booth clapped his friend on the arm with a dark chuckle. "You haven't earned the right to call her anything other than Dr. Brennan, yet, that's all."

Startled from his stunned stupor, Thompson looked at Booth. "How long did it take for you to be allowed?"

"Oh," Booth shoved his hands into his pockets, "I don't call her 'Temperance'…" He eyed her sideways, avoiding the question carefully. "Well, not very often, anyway…" His attention was diverted as another colleague approached their small gathering. "Hey, Mickey," Booth's face spread into a broad, happy grin. "How the hell are ya?"

The older man embraced Booth in a friendly hug, clapping him on the back. "Booth, it's good to see you. What are you doing here?" They parted and the man looked up at Booth. "Last I heard you were the East Coast Model-Agent... _The Golden Boy of the Bureau. _ I wouldn't think you would've been forced to attend one of these pain-in-the-ass meetings…"

Booth laughed and turned to Brennan, anxious to introduce her. "Bones, this is the guy responsible for me being in the FBI. This is Michael Mitchell; you can call him Mickey."

Brennan shook the man's hand as Booth continued the introductions.

"This here is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan." The pride he felt in introducing his partner was as evident in his voice as it was in his stance and expression. Turning back to his partner, he explained the connection between Mickey and himself. "Mickey and I served a stint together in Kosovo, just before he got out. Then he joined the Bureau and recruited me a few years later, as soon as I left the Army. He's the SAC running the Field Office in Charlotte."

"It's very nice to meet you, Mickey. I always wondered who recruited Booth straight out of the Army." She glanced at Booth. "You never told me any specifics on how you came to join the FBI."

"Yeah, well, it's his fault," Booth jokingly pointed his thumb at Mickey.

"By blaming fault, it sounds as though you regret your decision, Booth," Brennan wrinkled her forehead. "I thought you were proud to serve..."

"I am proud, Bones. I was just teasing." He winked conspiratorially, putting her concern at ease.

Satisfied with his answer, Brennan turned back to her new acquaintance. "If you are a Special Agent in Charge of an entire field office, why are you attending a conference intended to improve the intrapersonal skills between Special Agents, Field Agents and their partners?" She tilted her head in question and then continued very matter-of-factly, not giving him a chance to answer. "Your communication skills in addressing your subordinates must be very poor if you've been ordered to attend a week-long symposium of what I expect will be inane team building exercises and lectures containing inaccurate troubleshooting theories based on studies conducted by so-called experts in the soft science field of psychology..."

Booth practically choked on his own tongue as he looked at his partner in disbelief. "Bones!" He hissed in embarrassment and disapproval of her impromptu spiel.

Mickey, however, laughed out loud, throwing his head back in enjoyment. He appreciated someone challenging. So often, in his position as the Big-Boss, no one told him what they really thought anymore.

Brennan could only stand there, looking between the men in confusion. It was obvious to her that Booth was unhappy with her assessment, but the man she had assessed directly was laughing, despite Booth's groans and quiet reprimands.

"It's ok, Booth," Mickey smiled and tried to dissuade Booth from lecturing Brennan through clenched teeth. "She is only speaking her mind." He placed his hand on Brennan's bicep softly. "Actually, it's refreshing to have someone openly speak their mind."

Booth watched in now-stunned silence as his old friend and his best friend smiled and rolled their eyes at Booth's reaction.

"Actually," Mickey started to explain, "I am facilitating three of the lecture sessions, and I hope I don't make them too terribly boring..."

Realizing that she could very well have offended the man standing with them, and noticing the growing crowd of people pressing closer, Brennan felt her face flush. "Oh, Special Agent Mitchell, I truly meant no offense. Sometimes I speak out of turn..." She was mentally kicking herself for embarrassing her partner in their current setting, surrounded by his superiors, peers and several subordinates.

"Call me Mickey, and don't apologize." He leaned forward and whispered so she and Booth could hear his opinion, but no one else could. "I have to say I agree with you; these things are often pretty useless and more aggravation than they're worth." He stood back and laughed again, clapping Booth on the shoulder. "Don't be so hard on her, Booth! You were always so serious." He glanced back at Brennan and sized her up for a moment. "I hope you will attend one of my sessions, I would love to have some _honest_ feedback for a change."

"I can give honest feedback, it's one of my strengths. In don't believe in sugar-coating things, as I believe the phrase is." She realized her answer may be perceived as immodest; something that Sweets was always warning her against. "Thank you," she continued with a smile of appreciation. "Booth and I haven't yet pencilled in which sessions we wish to attend, so we can easily make adjustments to ensure your lectures are part of our plan."

Mickey turned back to his friend and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "So, ah, I'm retiring at the end of the year." He tilted his head. "Word has it, you're pretty much ready to run an office on your own, Booth. Why don't you consider transferring down?"

"Retiring? You're too young to retire, man." Booth ignored the recruitment attempt and questioned his friend. "Why are you leaving?"

"Ah, well, you know, I have the Army retirement already coming in. I'm having some back issues from, y'know, that last mission." Mickey had also been taken as a POW when Booth was, and they both suffered similarly from their experiences. "Besides, Jean wants to travel. We should do that before we're too old to do what we want."

"Well, I'm sorry to see you go, but I completely understand. I hope you two enjoy many years of adventures." Booth shook his hand again, this time genuinely offering his good will and silent understanding to the man's reference to their medical history. "How is Jean doing?"

"She'll be here towards the end of the week. You should eat with us one evening, you can see for yourself." He winked at Booth, knowing that his wife shamelessly and harmlessly, flirted with Booth whenever they got together.

"Yeah, we could meet up with you guys, that sounds good." Booth looked at Brennan for confirmation that she was up for a social dinner while in Virginia Beach.

Mickey eyed his former comrade carefully, taking note that Booth didn't miss a beat in immediately including Dr. Brennan in his plans for a meal. He kept his observation to himself, however, stored away in the back of his mind for future discussions. He knew that oftentimes, when partners are forced into a week-long convention, the last thing they want to do is spend their off-time together. But there was Booth, not even batting an eye at accepting an invitation on behalf of Brennan as well. "Great," his smile grew, recognizing the protective stance Booth seemed to have subconsciously taken as the circle of people surrounding Brennan grew in size. "Well, it looks like you have some other folks who want to say hello, so I'll stop monopolizing your time. We'll touch base later this week. I'll let Jean know you're here, she'll wanna look her prettiest to see you." He smirked when, from the corner of his eye, he caught Brennan's posture stiffen at the joke. That was all the proof he needed; he knew that trying to talk Booth into being his replacement down in North Carolina could very well be a lost cause. "And, uhh, don't think I didn't see how you avoided my question, there, Booth... We'll talk soon." He grinned, turning to Brennan before a Booth could argue. "It was a pleasure finally meeting you, Dr. Brennan."

After saying their goodbyes, Brennan allowed herself to be ushered around by Booth's sure hand, meeting and greeting various people that Booth deemed worthy, and mingling with others that she already knew. By nine o'clock, a facilitator was trying to call order to the mass of agents, speakers and facilitators that had filed into the conference center.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I can please have your attention... Please, take a seat." The man behind the podium waited until the milling crowd had settled and found seats at the tables around the room. "Good morning. My name is Andrew Simmons. My team and I have been invited by the FBI to assist in facilitating this year's conference, 'Communications and Teamwork for Success'. I want to welcome you all to this beautiful facility and congratulate each and every one of you for taking this positive step in your career. It has been proven time and again that open and honest communication is the key to a successful and healthy partnership, whether it be a personal or, as is the case this week, a professional partnership." The overly excited man on stage clapped his hands together once as he glanced around the room. "Now, I know that today is Saturday, and you are all probably thinking of other things you would rather be doing on a weekend. But let me assure you, we are not going to make you work hard and attend lectures today or tomorrow. These first two days are about relaxing and bonding with your partner and fellow co-workers." When several groans could be heard echoing through the room, he shook his head gently. "No, don't worry, they are designed to be fun exercises, maybe some friendly competition. Nothing too strenuous, mentally or physically, just some organized activities to get everyone involved and participating." Forcing a smile, the young man could feel unwelcome tension rolling off his charges as the majority of them glared up at the stage from their seats below.

"Booth!" Brennan did a poor job at trying to whisper as her nerdy excitement grew, and Booth was glad they had chosen seats towards the back of the room. "There are going to be competitions! We are very proficient at everything we do," she grinned and tapped his bicep repeatedly. "I'll bet we will have a good chance at winning!" She thought about her statement for a split second, then amended her statement. "Well, you shouldn't bet, you're a degenerate gambler, but I highly suspect that we stand a good chance against our competition."

Some of the agents around them snickered at Brennan's exclamations and she eyed the agents, not understanding why they were laughing at her. She heard someone off to the side make a comment about Booth's gambling addiction and that 'the rumors must be true.' She turned back to her partner and saw his cheeks redden, and she realized she had spoken too loud and far too freely in their current company. "Booth, I'm sorry..." And she truly was sorry, she didn't mean to cause more problems for him.

"Don't worry about it, Bones." He leaned towards her and whispered loud enough for her to hear, but not for many others to eavesdrop. "I don't really care what they think about me." He winked. "The people who matter already know." He recognized Brennan's competitive streak shining bright in her clear eyes, and he didn't have the heart to tell her that he didn't really care about winning - that he only wanted to get through the week and go home. With a nod at the stage, he refocused her attention up front.

Brennan felt a little more at ease with Booth's reassurance, but she made a mental note to filter her verbiage while in mixed company. She sat back in her chair again, listening to the speaker at the head of the room. He was talking about how the friendly competition would work, how the lecture and workshop schedules were broken into sets, and how to register for the relevant classes. He invited anyone with questions about the scheduling process to stop by the Conference Center Q&amp;A table. Not wanting her partner to forget about attending one of Mickey's lectures, she leaned back over and tapped repeatedly on his shoulder again.

Snickering at her enthusiasm, Booth kept his eyes forward and simply leaned in her direction, snagging her pointy little finger in his hand as he waited to hear what she was so anxious to tell him.

"We need to ensure that we attend one of Mickey's classes. He said he wanted to have us there."

"Yeah, I know, Bones, I heard. We can look at it after we're done here."

"I have the schedule here, Booth." She started fishing in her messenger bag for the paperwork and highlighters they'd neglected the previous evening, and pushed it under his arm for review. "Do you need a pen?"

Her sudden willingness to participate in the convention was a little unnerving to Booth, and he eyed her conspicuously. "Simmer down, Bones," he whispered. "We have time."

"I don't want his classes to fill up." Since Booth's friend had specifically asked her to attend, she didn't want to seem uninterested or unappreciative of the invitation. If the man was someone of importance in Booth's life, Brennan wanted to make a good impression.

Hearing a snicker behind where they sat at the round table, Booth turned sideways and looked over his shoulder to see who was laughing. Booth cocked an eyebrow, mumbling loud enough for the man at the next table to hear. "Got somethin' to say, Smitty?"

"Nope. Just laughing at you and your partner, that's all." Smith was from the Dover Field Office and had known Booth for years but had only been introduced to Brennan the evening before, amidst free-flowing alcohol, exuberant storytelling and raucous laughter. He had heard plenty of talk about the Brain Trust that worked with Booth, but he didn't expect the hardass agent's partner to be quite so geeky. "You sure got your hands full, huh? I don't know how you stand it..." He shook his head, regretting the movement immediately after a long night of drinking. "I heard she was a tough nut to crack..." He cocked his head towards Brennan, who sat perfectly still, instantly quiet, trying to ignore what she knew was an insult.

Booth could feel the sudden insecurity rolling off his partner in waves of heat and he glared in disapproval at the grinning man. He shook his head slowly. "Nope. Quite the opposite, actually. She's the one with her hands full." When he saw Brennan's head whip around towards him in question, he winked at her again before continuing to address his colleague with a deadpan glare. "She's gotta put up with my shit. Now," he shifted slightly, facing his co-worker more squarely, "before you go making judgement calls and forming uninformed opinions, you should sober up and get all the facts. You _are _an investigator, aren't you? Do you jump to conclusions for all your cases?"

"I'm just sayin', y'know, that I heard your partner was tough to understand." He shrugged once, "and it's a little weird that she seems so excited to be here…"

"She's only tough to understand for assholes who are too stupid to listen." He clenched his jaw once. "And, she is making the best of a shit-situation, so you can go to hell, Smitty."

Rightfully put in his place, Smitty sat back in his chair, looking at the back of Brennan's head, wondering what it was about her that made Booth so damn protective.

"We have a really great activity planned for today," the speaker announced, hoping to gain some interest from the crowd. "Since we are at the beach, we figured what better way to get everyone involved than to have a sand-sculpting contest!" In reaction to the clearly-audible groans heard across the room, he held his hands out. "Now, now, I can see _and hear_ your reluctance, but we urge you all to embrace this activity. It'll be a great way for everyone to get out there in the sun, enjoy our first day together and then, after we're done, you'll have the rest of the afternoon to yourselves until the dinner gala this evening." At the announcement that they'd have the afternoon off, there was a roar of approval from the majority of the audience, making the facilitator's job that much more difficult.

Simmon's gave them a few minutes to get it out of their system before he started to rein them back in. "Ladies and gentlemen," they quieted down, somewhat reluctantly. "You may begin scheduling your sessions this afternoon starting at two-thirty; the attendants will be at the tables where you registered yesterday upon arrival. After today, the scheduling team will be available each morning, from eight-thirty until ten-thirty, throughout the remainder of the conference. If there is a specific meeting or activity in which you wish to participate, please make your selections early. Once a meeting is scheduled to capacity, you will not be able to get your name on the list unless there is a cancellation."

Simmons glanced over his shoulder at the gathering of FBI and Federal Government patiently employees waiting for their respective turns to address the attendees and he nodded for the first one to start his approach. Looking back at the crowd, he forced a smile. "We are going to hear from various members of your leadership team this morning before beginning our activity. Once the final speaker is through, we will break for thirty minutes, during which time you may wish to return to your rooms and change into attire appropriate for the sand sculpting contest."

As an older, much larger man approached the podium, Simmons motioned for the audience to pay attention. "Now, please join me in welcoming our first speaker. He is known to many of you simply as 'PR-guy.' Please put your hands together for the Federal Bureau of Investigation's very own Sean McManus, your Public Relations Management Supervisor!"

The next hour passed relatively quickly, and almost reluctantly, people started to get pulled into the energy of the conference, cheering and whooping for those they knew on stage and tossing friendly challenges to friends and partners. Even Booth felt himself getting sucked in by it all, much like an unsuspecting hiker sinks into quicksand, and one look at Brennan told him all he needed to know... Her competitive streak was on full-speed-ahead-mode as she sat forward in her seat, her back ramrod straight and listening attentively to those in front of the crowd.

A few of the upcoming challenges that were mentioned caused her eyes to glitter as she turned to Booth, an impish grin threatening to spread across her perfectly shaped lips. "I believe," she leaned towards him, "that you and I will do _extremely_ well, Booth."

Booth watched her more than he watched the orators, admiring the radiant glow that was practically beaming from her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. He loved it when Brennan got excited about corny contests; his little nerd wanting to beat everyone else, for nothing more than bragging rights. When the room was finally dismissed, Booth found himself pulled to his feet by his overly-eager partner, urging him forward so they could be among the first to the elevators and subsequently give them the advantage of time when they reconvened for the challenge.

**Postscript A/N**

**So, it was Mickey that I really wanted to introduce to you all. I predict he will be a an interesting character; one who shares more than just an FBI history with Booth. He was not written into my initial draft of this fic, but I'll work him in again later. I have some ideas for him. :) **

**I don't remember ever learning about Booth's recruitment into the FBI - I don't recall if the even discussed it on the show and honestly, I don't have the time to go back and watch old eps to find out if it was mentioned. But I thought it would be interesting to have a common character behind Booth's two worlds colliding. **

**As always, I look forward to hearing from you all. **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Hello and welcome back! **

**Thank you so much for all your support on my little story. **

**This is quite a short chapter. I have been crazy-busy these past couple weeks and I didn't have time to edit a whole chapter, so I proof-read a portion so I could get it posted and say THANK YOU to you all. **

**I hope you enjoy. :) **

**Disclaimer…. Ummm…. Yeah, I own it all. The entire enterprise is mine and mine alone….. Oh, wait, no, that's not right. I don't own anything! **

"Easy, Bones," Booth laughed at her hurried pace as they walked down the hall leading to their rooms. "We have time."

"I know," she acknowledged his statement but never slowed her stride. "You know," she glanced over her shoulder at Booth as he lagged behind, "between our first two cases, before you and I were partners, I spent two weeks with Angela at an artists' retreat. It was held on a privately owned beach down in Florida."

"_You..._ went on an artists' retreat, Bones?" He leveled his eyes at her in disbelief. "What the hell for?"

"She talked me into it, said I required to go with her because I was her best friend, I wasn't allowed to say no." She stood at his side as he unlocked his door and followed him into his room without second thought, talking excitedly. "She told me that I would benefit from some of the classes, you know, to improve on my artistic abilities for recreating human anatomy and such. Although my skills for sketching the human body were alreadyquite advanced, I admit to picking up a few tips that I hadn't before discovered..." She detoured into her room via the connecting door.

"I see." He rummaged in his drawer for his bathing suit and a tank-top. "And what's your point, Bones?" He called into her room as he passed, on the way to his bathroom so he could change.

"My point," she poked her head through the door and caught him before he was out of sight, "is that I acquired _sand sculpting skills_ while I was there. I was very good." Her smile lacked any trace of modesty as she backed into her room again. "It will give us an advantage over the others." Her sing-song voice was strong and clear as she closed her own bathroom door so she could put on her suit, remembering the tips she had learned from some of the artists, and from one in particular.

Brennan's cheeks blushed at the memory of Jacques. He was a strapping young man, two years her junior, but quite skilled... In everything... On _and off _the beach... She looked at herself in the mirror and noticed the healthy flush in her cheeks, and her thoughts shifted immediately from Jacques to Booth. She imagined how it might have been if Booth had been at the retreat... She had fantasies about her partner that far exceeded any of her past lovers, and she wondered if Booth-the-man was anything at all like her Booth-the-fantasy. Making sure that all her feminine assets were appropriately arranged where they belonged and covered by the thin swimsuit material, she let her eyes skim down her body in the full length mirror.

Angela had insisted on taking her shopping the week before, and 'helped' her choose the bathing suit as well as a few other outfits specifically for this convention. She didn't so much 'help' Brennan choose the suit, but instead the artist simply demanded that she try it on and model it, barely giving the anthropologist a chance to change back into her street clothes before snagging the hanger and rushing to the register to pay for it before Brennan balked. The scientist had to admit, now that she was looking at herself, that her carefree friend had chosen well.

The emerald green suit was a one-piece, with large cut-outs on both sides, exposing her trim waist and upper hips, the top and bottom were connected by a swath of material on the front and back. Her legs seemed impossibly long, thanks to the high-cut style, and the neckline had a respectful plunge that revealed 'just enough' of Brennan's ample cleavage to entice a second look. Angela had assured her that Booth would swallow his own tongue when he saw her wearing the suit, especially after being accustomed to her modest, practical black one-piece that she typically wore whenever he and Parker came to use her pool. '_And_,' Angela had added, '_if you're lucky,_ _he might even break into Possessive-Booth when faced with other men admiring your suit..._'

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked through her room, going straight over to Booth's. She knew they didn't need towels, but she wanted an excuse to waltz in there and catch him off guard. Stalking into his space with an air of confidence, she caught sight of him in the mirror over the dresser just as he was pulling his shirt on. "Should we take our towels, Booth?"

Booth spun on his heel, hardly believing what he saw in the mirror's reflection when she walked in behind where he stood. Facing her, his eyes roamed her body without permission, starting at the long, graceful column of her neck, all the way down to her narrow feet, which, surprisingly, were tipped with perfectly pedicured emerald green toenails, the same shade as her suit. His dark, observant eyes took in every curve, every valley and every inch of creamy pale skin on display for his viewing pleasure, committing it all to memory... It was enough fuel for years of new fantasies starring his partner... Traveling back up her torso, he felt his balls hitch when he realized he could see every contour, every outline of her body, including her teasingly perky breasts with their hardening nipples making their presence known, as if he could have missed them. Finally settling his gaze on her pale, vulnerable eyes, he groaned.

"Oh, sweet Jesus..." He sighed, unable to stop his eyes from roving again as she shifted in place.

Brennan interpreted his reaction as displeasure and she suddenly felt uncomfortable and exposed. Folding her arms tentatively across her abdomen, covering what she was sure were a few scars made visible by the suit's alluring cut-outs, she lowered her eyes, speaking quietly, apologetically. "Angela assured me that you would like this one..." Her words died off, not having meant to be quite so forthcoming, but the words just tumbled from her lips without warning. Her frightened blues darted back up to meet Booth's eyes, wondering if he heard the truth spill, but he was focused on the scoop neckline.

He stepped forward subconsciously, his palms itching to touch her as he listened to the disclaimer. "Uh-huh," he mumbled as if in a trance. Then her words actually sunk in and he shifted his eyes back up. "Wait, what?"

Aware that her confession had finally sunk in, Brennan thought quickly, trying to cover up the true reason she had agreed to the frivolous purchase. "Well, she said it would be attractive... She said that _I_ would be attractive... you know... She said the style was becoming..." Brennan was babbling but she couldn't stop. "She said the cut..."

Realizing his partner was ready to launch into some anthropological reason as to why men would be drawn to her, he interrupted, knowing _exactly_ why Angela had pushed her best friend to acquire such an unusual article of clothing. "You can't wear that, Bones." He turned around, going to his drawer and pulling it open with such pent up force that he pulled it clear out of the dresser. Frustrated at his own actions, he simply tossed the drawer onto the bed and continued pawing through the strewn contents.

"What?" She didn't expect _that_ response. Not at all. Looking down at herself once more, trying to assess exactly why Booth was so opposed to her suit, her brow wrinkled. "But I didn't bring another-" Her attention was interrupted when a shirt was thrust at her, pressed from arm's length away, only his forefinger holding it up, as if he were afraid to touch her.

"Here. Put this on." Now he was averting his eyes, trying to get his mind on anything other than peeling away that thin, flimsy layer of material and going 'Neanderthal' on her. Repeatedly.

"Booth," she tried to argue but it came out more like a whine and she crossed her arms again, refusing to take the outstretched shirt, "I'm not taking your shirt. I have shirts of my own if I want to wear one!"

"They won't cover enough," he answered quickly. "Take this," he grunted and pushed it against her again, causing her rebellious and stubborn streak to rise to the surface, made evident to him when he saw her lips press together and her jaw clench. Without another word he shook the shirt with one hand, unfurling it and promptly pulled it down over her head, trapping her arms inside, against her soft body where he would much rather have had his own arms. When her pretty little face poked through the neck hole, her ponytail askew and her fiery blue-grays ready for confrontation, he couldn't help but smile. "Bones," he tried to soothe her, knowing instinctively that she misunderstood his reluctance to accept her suit.

"Don't _Bones_ me, Seeley Booth!" She could practically feel her blood boiling as her face grew warm with a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

"Listen," he stepped a half-step closer, his hands still firmly holding the hem of the shirt, keeping the protective material firmly in place.

"I don't want to listen!" Her words were strained, her tone harsh and mulish.

"She was right..." He spoke softly, almost reverently.

Startled from the mental catalog of lectures she was preparing to unleash on her partner, Brennan wrinkled her brow. "Huh?" Only the man standing there, trapping her in his clothing and having the nerve to invade her personal space with his powerful body and infiltrate her senses with his masculine scent and signature cologne could make her brain stagger mid-thought... No one else could render her both thoughtless _and_ speechless simultaneously. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to think straight.

"I mean Angela... She was right..." He stepped closer, practically body-to-body. He saw her pulse quicken against the soft skin of her suprasternal notch. When she didn't open her eyes to meet his, one hand released its death-grip of the shirt and he knuckled her chin, silently encouraging her to let him see her pretty blues. When she finally looked at him, it was like all the air was sucked from the room. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't speak... She was beautiful, all flushed and ready for a fight, her hackles on edge and danger flashing in the pale orbs that threatened to pull him in. Speaking quietly, his words came out in breathy gasps, his voice husky with desire for her, "Ange got this one right, Bones... I _do_ like it. A _lot_." His confession was a little more transparent than he had planned this early in the week, but he didn't want any misunderstandings, especially about this.

"But then, why...?" She shrugged, her arms still trapped inside. "I don't understand..." The honest insecurity in her voice was clearly apparent. She looked down at herself once more, noticing for the first time that he had covered her with his Fed Cases hockey t-shirt.

"Bones," he released the final hold of his shirt, shaking it loose a little so she could shift and bring her arms out the sleeves. When she made no move to do so, he helped, reaching into the short sleeve and gently wrapped his wide hand around one bicep until she started to acquiesce. Once both arms hung loose at her sides, her face still shadowed with doubt and confusion, he tilted his head and palmed her cheeks, cradling her in his wide hands. It was all he could do not to kiss her, but he needed her to understand why he reacted the way he did. "Bones, the suit looks amazing... _You_ look amazing... But I don't wanna end up rearranging someone's face on our first day..."

His explanation didn't help her understand any better. She searched his pleading eyes, trying to comprehend what the hell he was talking about. Without permission, her eyes skipped over his face, admiring his handsome features before settling on his mouth. Without conscious thought, she leaned towards him, still focussed on his slightly chapped lips. He spoke again, startling her from her fantasies of falling against him and feeling his mouth crushing hers.

"You look fucking _gorgeous_, Temperance," his breath ghosted across her skin and his volume went even lower. "Like a goddamn goddess." His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated. "And all those guys down on the beach, whether they're here for the conference or just vacationing, are gonna be checkin' you out and sayin' shit to each other..." His hands left her face and trailed down her shoulders and arms, until, without either of them realizing it, they were cupping her hips and pushing her back slightly, towards the wall. "And then I'm gonna get all pissed and jealous, and I'm gonna have to say some shit back at 'em..." His Philly accent was thick, proof that his carefully constructed guard was lowered.

"_Jealous_?" The scientist was genuinely surprised at her partner's candor, and her senses were reeling from the assault of his proximity, his physique, his unique Boothy-smell and the bedroom voice that seemed to have replaced the warm baritone timbre to which she was so accustomed. "Why..." she breathed and watched his mouth again. "Why would you be jealous?"

Raising his eyes to find that she was focused on his mouth, he simply leaned forward and to the side, obviously misguiding her as she tried to lean in to meet him. His lips came to rest just in front of her ear and he breathed against her. "I want you to think about that question, Bones..." He sniffed, taking in a lungful of her jasmine and lavender shampoo, and subsequently sending shivers down her spine. By that time he had her pressed against the open door separating their rooms, his body sandwiching her in place and his desire for her shamelessly on prominent display against her lower abdomen. "And when you come up with an answer that you believe is plausible, you let me know... And we'll talk about it..."

She felt his dry lips press a light kiss against the skin immediately in front of her ear and her knees became uncharacteristically weakened by the action. She hadn't realized that her own hands had gravitated to Booth's waist, where she gripped tight fistfuls of the lightweight material he wore, keeping him close. When he arched his neck, letting his cheek drag against hers, she felt a riot of flutters erupt in her stomach, and unsuccessfully, she tried to follow his mouth with hers as he backed up just far enough to be out of reach.

"But don't doubt, _not even for a minute_, that I don't like your suit, Bones..."

She nodded silently, unable to utter a complete sentence. When he was far enough away, he palmed her biceps and pulled her away from the surface holding her upright, turning her back towards her own room. "Now, I know you've got one of those skirt things to go over that... You always have one when we come to your pool..." His gentle nudge was basically an order for her to cover herself more fully.

"It's called a sarong, Booth." She rolled her eyes and walked into her space, still trying to calm her racing heart.

With a satisfied smirk, Booth watched his partner walk through the door, his name in big bold letters across her shoulders. It was adolescent and perhaps wrong, he knew, to want to see Brennan wearing _his_ team jersey, to basically mark her as his, but that didn't stop the cocky agent from pushing out his chest and strutting like a peacock as he followed behind, watching as she opened her closet and pulled out the flowing material that he recognized from countless visits to her pool when he would take Parker swimming. When she caught him staring, he shrugged and smiled, only marginally sorry at being caught.

"I told you, I have my own shirts, Booth." She crossed her arms and prepared to remove his shirt but felt her hands forcefully stopped when he grabbed her wrists.

"No," he shook his head, and straightened her hem once again, ensuring that his Fed Cases logo shirt was still firmly in place. "I told _you_, your shirt won't cover enough..."

She smirked at his admission and felt her face heat up. "Well," she tied her beach sarong in place, low on her hips, and looked back up at him, "at this rate, you'll be out of shirts by the end of the week." She laughed, letting a full smile brighten her face.

"That's ok," he winked as he mentally calculated the number of clean clothes he'd packed. "I'll figure somethin' out." He put his hand on her back and ushered her towards the door. "Let's go, Bones... We're not gonna make it down there at all if we stay up here any longer..."

**Postscript A/N**

**It was really really REALLY difficult for me to NOT write *more* between B&amp;B here… it could have so easily turned into something more… something that would have earned my story the M-rating that I gave it. Alas, I ask you for patience…. you all know I love B&amp;B together and eventually this little fic will earn the rating!**

**Thank you again for all your support! I have seen a lot of new follows on here from new folks and it is so exciting for me to know that people are just finding this and my other fics! THANK YOU! If you are on Twitter, you can find me on there too. Same handle as my username here: jazzyproz**

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N. Hello and welcome back! Thank you so much for your continued support of this story. I am glad so many of you seem to like it. **

**It's been another crazy week at work; someone quit and we are all trying to do our parts to pick up the slack, so my writing and editing time has been limited. **

**Disclaimer: didn't you hear? I own it all now. The show, the characters, the story lines ... They are all MINE MINE MINE. ok, not really... I don't own anything. But it would sure be nice! **

There was an unexpected air of excitement among the attendees as people filed onto the beach, gathering around a relatively small raised platform, accepting bottles of cold water from the volunteers who were circulating around the crowd. Friendly challenges were tossed between friends and colleagues while an excess of testosterone was on display for anyone who cared enough to pay attention. Glancing around, Brennan observed the variety of people while she tagged along behind Booth as he parted a path, cutting through the thickest gathering of partners towards the circle of Hoover teammates.

A man laughed as Booth and Brennan pushed passed and he called out, catching their attention. "So, I guess you must be the infamous duo, 'Booth and Brennan,' huh?"

Booth spun around, looking for the disembodied voice and zeroing in on a stranger immediately, instinctively moving until he was positioned between Brennan and the unknown. Pasting on a false expression of interest, Booth nodded. "Yep," he eyed the man up peripherally, searching his memory banks for his identity but coming up blank. "Afraid you've got us at a disadvantage, Agent..." He cocked an eyebrow and waited.

"Parish. John Parish," he extended his hand and was slightly surprised at the firm grip the older man had.

"What field office are you out of?" Booth asked, wary of his gut reaction to the man.

"Dover."

"Huh..." Booth narrowed his eyes. "You Smitty's partner?"

"Yes. I was just reassigned to him. News must travel fast." Parish was a little surprised that Booth had hit the nail on the head, naming his senior partner immediately.

"Yeah, somethin' like that." The previous night at the bar, Booth had heard Smitty complaining that he'd been reassigned with a two-year-rookie that seemed to be trouble, so he took a stab in the dark, assuming it was this guy. Finally releasing the man's hand, he nodded sideways to his partner. "This here is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan."

Parish turned his eyes to the attractive woman standing just behind Booth's shoulder. "Yeah, there was no mistaking you when you walked by..." His smile widened, exposing too-large capped teeth.

"Hello," Brennan subconsciously picked up on Booth's caution of the man and she didn't make any move to shake his hand. "How did you know who we are? There are several male/female partners here today."

"Oh" Parish smirked at the scientist's apparent cluelessness, "I guess you could say it's written all over ya." He chuckled at her visible confusion but halted his laughter when he heard what sounded surprisingly like a warning growl emanating from Booth's throat.

"Yeah, ok," Booth placed his open palm on Brennan's bicep and started to turn her back in the direction they were headed before the interruption. "You have a good day, Parish. Enjoy the convention if we don't speak again." If it was up to Booth, they would have no further contact with the man, but something told him that wasn't going to be the case.

Parish met Booth's hard gaze and nodded, immediately disliking the cocky DC legend, but undeniably intrigued by his non-agent partner. "See ya around." When the partners turned away, Parish couldn't help but notice the way that Booth ushered his partner and she allowed it without argument. He had heard that the anthropologist was ultra-independent, to the point of almost being a feminist, consistently claiming that she didn't need anyone. And yet, right before his eyes, the woman not only permitted her partner to control her actions, but she even wore his shirt, seemingly oblivious of the implication that he had marked her as his. He let his eyes follow them as they wove in and out of the crowd, admiring the sweet sashay of her hips and the soft swishing of her sarong from behind. He was startled from his observation only by the approach of his partner, Smitty, who merely chuckled when he saw the object of Parish's focus.

B/B/B/B

"Good morning, Sir," Shaw stepped sideways to allow her boss some room to join their group. "Hi, Dr. Brennan." She smiled anxiously, "it's nice to see you again. I like your shirt."

Brennan smiled back, somewhat taken back by the young agent who always seemed a little too friendly. "Hello, Agent Shaw, thank you. It's Booth's shirt, I can take no credit... he made me wear it..."

Booth smiled and nodded at the young agent and then winked playfully at his partner, thankful that Brennan wasn't too short with the up-and-coming investigator. He knew she was sometimes put on edge by Shaw's eager nature, but he was slowly trying to convince his partner that Shaw was a worthwhile agent. As conversations already in progress continued, neither partner participated, though each appeared to be politely paying attention. In reality, they were each lost in their own individual thoughts.

Brennan observed Agent Genevieve Shaw as she interacted with her colleagues. She was at ease with those around her, though she was outranked by most. The woman was still a very green, very inexperienced agent working under Booth's guidance, and she was always eager to be in his presence whenever possible. At first Brennan felt threatened by the shorter woman, though she would never have admitted that to anyone else. She had interpreted Shaw's interest in Booth as personal. As the scientist was learning, however, the younger woman _was_ indeed smitten with Booth, but not for the reasons she had first expected. It was obvious that Shaw looked at to Booth through the eyes of a hungry student wanting to soak in all the knowledge and experience of her idolized mentor. While she hadn't worked any cases alongside Booth up to that point, the Senior Agent has assured Brennan that he saw potential in the young midwestern woman, and whenever Brennan was too critical of the junior agent's actions, interpreting them as intrusive or unwelcome, he would correct her in a typical Boothy-fashion. '_Lighten up, will ya?_' he would say to her, '_the kid's gotta learn somehow, right?_' So, out of respect for her partner's urging, Brennan had vowed to be more tolerant of Shaw's presence, though she was inwardly thankful that they hadn't been asked to bring her in to work one of their cases yet. She tried to focus on what Shaw was saying to the small assembly of people she recognized, consciously aware of Booth's reassuring hand on her back while they stood in place, and she leaned into him ever so slightly.

The anthropologist's mind segued to her working relationship with Booth and her extreme disdain of working with anyone else. Working cases with agents other than Booth was challenging for the whole team, but especially for Brennan and she recognized that fault-of-sorts in herself. She didn't handle change very well... _Ever_. More often than not, her mannerisms were misconstrued or misunderstood, resulting in communication break-downs during the day, inevitably leading to sleepless nights. Brennan had learned, first hand, how difficult it was to acclimate a new agent to their established and proven methods when Agent Payton Perotta had been appointed to lead the investigation in which Booth was a viable suspect... Brennan knew Booth was not guilty, and she made her opinions well known during the case, but the bureau refused to accept her expert views and forced her to work with Perotta instead. The scientist, still slightly insecure about the stability of her relationship with Booth felt her posture stiffen subconsciously when she saw the focus of her distraction working her way through the crowd, aiming in their general direction.

When the attractive young blond approached the group there on the beach, her junior agent in tow, Booth's mind also traveled back to that first case Brennan had worked with Perotta. In private, after the close of the case and over several empty beer bottles and the tattered remnants of chips and salsa, Brennan had told Booth that if he had been permitted full access to the case from the start, she had no doubts they would have solved it in a fraction of the time it took while working with Perotta. And among her complaints about the difficulty of working with a woman like Payton Perotta, she had unwittingly revealed to Booth just how much she _enjoyed_ working with him, a little morsel of information that he happily kept to himself, pulling it out and using it to brighten the occasional rainy day at the bureau.

During a different late night conversation, while sitting on the floor near Booth's coffee table, which was strewn with partially-eaten Thai left-overs, snack wrappers and a mostly-empty bourbon bottle, his partner added some additional fuel to his rainy-day-reserve when she confessed more than he was sure she had intended when her blatant jealousy of the blond agent reared its ugly head. Amidst a slurred chain of insults ranging from Perotta's too-small-twinkling-eyeballs to her fake-dyed-hair-follicles and her grossly incorrect assumption that the squints could ever be considered 'her team,' Brennan's true feelings, though deeply-hidden as they typically were, were revealed in their full, beautiful glory to Booth.

_The nerve! _Brennan had been outraged as she let her head fall against Booth's shoulder, searching for comfort that only he could provide as she snuggled alongside him. _How dare Payton Perotta, _Brennan had spit the name out with distaste. _How could that woman ever think that their team could be __her_ _team... Brennan's squints were fiercely loyal... They were __Booth's_ _team... Just like __she_ _was __Booth's partner__... And furthermore, how could Perotta ever think that he would choose to eat her homemade chili over the Mac and Cheese that Brennan always made for him..._ It was an evening that Booth often replayed in his mind: the feeling of his tipsy partner close, his arm draped across her shoulders holding her near as he reassured her through his own bourbon-induced-haze, that: _yes, the squints were __his_ _squints, __Brennan included__; yes, __he_ _was still, and always wanted to be, __Brennan's_ _partner; and yes, he would __always_ _choose her Mac and Cheese over anything else put in front of him. Well, except maybe pie_... Shortly after that evening, Brennan showed up unannounced at his office with a pie... One that she had made from scratch, _just as an experiment, of course_, because she didn't like pie... And she waited while he ate, expecting a full break-down report of what she needed to do to make it better next time... And damn, the next time she made it for him, it was perfect...

As he watched his partner's reaction to the gathering of officers from the Hoover, he saw the war behind her eyes at Perotta's approach. When he realized his agent was planning to sidle in between Shaw and himself, he shifted closer to Brennan, allowing more space for Perotta and Robinson. He flexed his hand against his partner's lower back, encouraging her to relax, and when he felt the shift in her weight, he knew she had gotten the message.

"Hello, Booth," Perotta turned her radiant smile at the tall man beside her, batting her eyelashes while shamelessly admiring his appealing physique in the tank top shirt he wore. "Nice to see you here. Surprising, but nice." She then looked at Brennan, turning her _twinkling eyeballs_ to the anthropologist with a faint undercurrent of competitive tension. "Good morning, Dr. Brennan. Are you enjoying the convention so far?" Her friendliness wasn't quite forced, but it was far from relaxed.

"Seeing as how it has only just begun, I cannot provide you with a well-reasoned opinion yet, Agent Perotta." She pinned the shorter woman with cool eyes. "Ask me after it's over and I will let you know."

Feeling the unmistakable chill in the warm, breezy air, Booth hid a smirk and warned Brennan with nothing more than a flash of his eyes and a gentle bump of his shoulder. When she glanced up at him, he could see that she was actually having fun... The air of competition generated by the convention had played well into her feelings towards Perotta, and the only thing that stole his attention from the blues that were looking up at him and his thoughts of their near-miss upstairs in his room, was Perotta's interjecting voice.

"Booth, have you met my new partner?" She jerked her head in the direction of the rookie standing at her side. "This is Brandon Robinson. He was just assigned to us in DC." Perotta knew that Booth was aware of the new recruit, but she didn't know that they had already met.

"Yeah," Booth's nearly sadistic smile made an appearance as he stared down at Robinson. "We met last night, in the hall, didn't we, Robinson?" Without looking, he guided his partner around from his side, so she was standing more in front of him and better able to see the rookie. "You remember my partner, don'tcha, Robinson?"

Brandon Robinson paled when he saw the cool looks he was receiving from the infamous partners. After they had parted ways with Booth and Brennan in the hall, Jones had filled him in about some of the things he had heard. While not completely convinced that all the legends were true, Robinson felt a little concerned about his career. "Yes," he _sounded_ sure of himself, even if her didn't feel it, "of course I do." He looked at Brennan. "Good morning, Dr. Brennan."

"Good morning. I hope that your bladder and bowels are in better form today, Agent Robinson." Her words came out like a question but there was no true concern for his well-being in her eyes.

"Excuse me?" Perotta's eyes darted back and forth between her newly assigned rookie and the Head of Major Crimes.

"Oh, it's nothing," Booth assured her with a smile. "Just a little inside joke. Right, Bones?"

Brennan just grinned softly, feeling a little bit sorry for Perotta, only because Booth insisted that she was a good agent. "Good luck with your new partner, Agent Perotta."

Before anyone could say more, the facilitator was on the podium, calling for everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for assembling so efficiently. We are ready to begin our first Partners Team Building activity." He smiled, noticing that everyone seemed much more at ease and willing to participate than they had over in the welcome hall. "Each set of partners will have an assigned work space," he motioned to a large portion of the beach that had been sectioned off from the public and was crowded with pop-up tent roofs, "in which you will construct a sand sculpture that represents you as partners. Not something that represents each of you individually, but it needs to be something that symbolizes partnership, teamwork." He glanced around, seeing a mixture of smiles and frowns. "You will have two hours to complete your piece. You may use any of the tools provided for you in your work space, but you must keep your sculpture within the working perimeters of your individual tent. When you finish your sculpture, you are free to go and enjoy the rest of your day. We encourage you to cheer on and support your fellow agents, and we remind you to be respectful and do not insult or disrespect anyone... We all know that you are agents, not artists, so no one expects perfection."

Brennan's head spun around to Booth as she prepared to launch into a what he was certain would have been a non-whispered-whisper about achieving perfection and her own accomplished artistic skills, but he grabbed her shoulders and aimed her forward again, shushing her quietly against her windblown ponytail.

"Our panel of judges will be walking around while you work, observing and asking questions or inquiring about interpretation. Your works will be judged on a combination of how well you work together as partners, your willingness to participate, as well as the final execution of your piece." He glanced around, noting some of the friendly and maybe not-so-friendly jabs being tossed around. "Now, I think this should go without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway... We are all adults here, so don't be childish and destroy someone else's work just because you think theirs is better or you think they might beat you... Remember the activity scores are awarded on a combined basis and will accumulate throughout the week, so let's just all enjoy this time together and have a little fun, ok?" He was surprised at the whoops and 'hell yeahs' that were thrown back at him in response. "Ok, folks," he clapped, "pick a tent and get to work! Good luck and may the best team win!"

Brennan started tugging Booth's arm excitedly. "We should select one of the tents at the far edge of the grid, Booth."

He let her pull him in the direction she wanted, knowing she must have a method to her madness. He grinned at Shaw as the young agent followed close behind. "Gonna hang with us for a bit, Shaw?"

"If you don't mind, Sir." She called after him and motioned for her companion to follow. Since Shaw was not yet a full-fledged Field Agent, she had been charged with assisting a young newcomer, Janet Soto, with office tasks and bullpen duties. Janet was the youngest to graduate from the academy that term and had no aspirations of actually going out into the field. She had been recruited into the DC office for sole purpose of grooming her to be the office 'SME', also known as the Subject Matter Expert. She would eventually control the workflow coordination and assignment verification. Janet was introduced to Booth on her third day at the Hoover, while shadowing Shaw and re-organizing and updating the filing system in Booth's office. She liked him immediately, not only because he was so charming, but because he didn't treat her like a lowly office-grunt like some of the other agents had done in her short time there. He worked at his desk while Shaw and Janet pulled files, and he took the time to ask about her ambitions and plans, offering insight and encouragement about her choice of career path and offered her his open-door policy, inviting her to come to him with any problems or concerns, and he would assist if he could.

"Yeah, sure," he replied and glanced over his shoulder as Brennan still pulled him along. "Hey, mornin' Janet." He smiled, not having greeted her when she rejoined the group moments before. "Have you met my partner?"

"Um, no, Sir, not yet…" The young girl answered breathlessly as her short legs worked to keep up the pace.

"Great…." He laughed. "I'll introduce you once we stop… If we stop now she might shoot me with my own gun…" He winked conspiratorially and laughed when his partner responded.

"I can hear you, Booth...but I doubt you brought your sidearm down here to the beach..." She stopped abruptly, causing her partner to plow into her back. She felt his hands palm her hips to steady her as his momentum nearly knocked her over, but she was too focused on their task to pay much attention to the welcome feel of his confident touch. "We will take this tent," she pointed to the shelter on their right. It was an end spot, just like she wanted. She turned to look at Booth, her face bright and her smile radiant. "Having an end location gives us an advantage - we can step back to observe our progress as we work, it will give us perspective."

"Well," Booth smiled and rubbed his hands together, "if there's one thing we need… it's perspective…" He pointed to the tent next to them and addressed Shaw. "Why don't you ladies take that one?"

"Booth," Brennan whispered loudly, "you shouldn't let your guard down by consorting with the competition…. We need to concentrate."

He locked her eyes, loving her fierce competitive streak even more than ever before. He found himself once again dangerously close to telling her, and he had to force himself to look away, attempting instead to humor his way out of the predicament in which he found himself. He glanced over at Shaw and Janet, shrugging one shoulder. "Sorry, ladies, I can't chat with you for a while. We must first concentrate on crushing you in this competition..." He winked. "But maybe we can all get something to drink later, yeah?"

The two junior agents laughed and nodded in agreement as they watched Booth turn back to his partner. They set about planning their own project and were soon engrossed so much that they didn't even notice when the partners next to them bickered or laughed.

"Ok, Bones. Whatcha think?" He circled the large pile of sand that had been dumped upon a thigh-high platform measuring about one meter squared. "We could build a big hockey stick and puck..."

"What!? Booth, be serious." Her command came out as a whine as she eyed him in disbelief.

"I am being serious, Bones... I play hockey... You come and watch me play hockey..." He leaned close to tease her, "I think you _like_ watching me play. Hell, you're even wearing my t-shirt."

"I'm only wearing this shirt because you _made_ me wear it." She glanced around, as if for the first time noticing that the majority of the other women were simply wearing their bathing suits and shorts or a skirt like hers. Only a few were wearing tops over their suits and she looked back at Booth. "I don't understand why you were worried, Booth. There are plenty of other women down here in just suits. I would have blended in just fine..."

Suddenly anxious to get to work and avoid this conversation all together, he circled the platform back over to where she was and started examining the implements with which they were provided. "Yeah, well, I think you blend in just fine like you are..."

"Booth, that makes no sen-" Her rebuttal was cut off when he thrust a trowel in her direction.

"Here, what do you want to do with this? Chop-chop, Bones... We only have an hour and forty-five minutes left..."

She smiled, happy to be back on track, and in response, he smiled, happy to have distracted her.

"I have an idea. And it's quite brilliant."

"Well, look at the source, Bones. It's bound to be brilliant." He was proud of her and it showed. And he didn't even try to hide it.

The next ninety minutes were filled with bouts of laughter and rounds of bickering in which they volleyed the wins until they had constructed an impressive piece that depicted the partners' success. The judges came by their tent twice, asking for explanations about the images the partners had chosen to build and carve into their sand pile. Brennan was in her element as she lectured the judges and focused on their unique abilities to cooperate with one another despite the small bickering battles that all those around them had already been witness to that morning.

Booth had his own customized workout with keeping Brennan on task while simultaneously keeping her oblivious to his near-constant posturing as the alpha-male in her life. About thirty minutes after beginning their piece, he looked up from his work space to see his partner unwrapping her sarong and rolling it into a tight ball before placing it with her sandals, which had been discarded almost immediately when they chose their tent.

Realizing he couldn't very well ban her from removing the skirt, he instead turned his threatening gaze in the direction of three young men who had caught sight of her movements and decided to halt their own work to watch. "This ain't no freakin' peep show, pals," he grunted, sending them scurrying back to their corners while mumbling apologies. Once Booth was certain that his partner's honor was still intact, he got back to work himself, keeping one eye on the gun he was etching and the other, more observant eye, on her, thankful that she had at least left his shirt on.

At one point she dropped out of sight on the other side of the platform from where he was squatting to work, and a sudden quietness that settled over the surrounding tents drew his attention. Darting to his feet, he circled around to where she was, covering the ground separating them in three long strides. Nearly choking on his own tongue, he coughed and struggled to keep his eyes in their sockets. She was on all fours, working diligently on her sand art while her ass swayed to some un-sing-able tribal beat that was playing on the ever-present soundtrack-loop in her mind. The bottom hem of the shirt had ridden up and rested at the small of her back, revealing her perfect, heart-shaped ass for all to see.

Emitting another threatening, animalistic growl at her would-be-admirers, he grabbed her from behind, scooping under her arms, and hauled her to her feet. "Dammit, Bones..." He mumbled just behind her ear as he stabilized her stance. "You're practically mooning the entire beach…"

Completely unaware of what he was talking about, she shrugged loose from his grip and turned an angry glare in his direction. "You interrupted my process, Booth." She pushed him back, forcing space between them. "What is your problem!?"

"My _problem_, Bones," he hissed, going nose to nose with her, "is that you're down on all fours wiggling your ass at anyone and everyone who looks your way…." He took another step closer, wanting to keep their conversation as private as possible in the very public setting, "_which_, in case you haven't noticed, is every fucking guy on this beach." His hands fisted at his sides and his jaw ticked, clenching and releasing as he tried to rein in his control.

"You," she pounded her finger against the center of his chest, "need to back the hell off, Booth. I am not your personal property." She pressed harder against his chest. "You are _not _my keeper, you are _not _my father," she stepped in even closer, looking up at him with a dangerous glint in her eyes, "you are not even my mate yet…" She hadn't meant to let the time-frame quantification slip out, but the tiny, three-letter word squeaked out without permission.

"_Mate_?" He snarled, his voice dropping an octave as he closed into her space. "I'm not your _mate_?" Ignoring the tiny little 'yet' she had tacked onto the end of her statement, he focused instead on such a clinical, unaffectionate term. His proximity forced her to step back. "Is that how you're gonna refer to me when this thing," he motioned between them, "finally happens?" He pinned her with a hard stare.

Setting her jaw firmly, she squared her shoulders and stood her ground, not caring how close he came to bumping into her. "You mean _IF_ this thing happens..." She stuck her nose up into the air and silently dared him to correct her.

Never one to back down from a challenge, especially one of hers, Booth pressed in, looming over her despite her puffed-up stance. "No, I don't mean '_**if'**_, Bones. I said what I meant." He watched her cheeks fill with a pretty shade of pink, different from that which she'd developed while working in the heat. "This?" One finger pointed to her and then back to himself as he spoke quietly, ensuring she was the only one to hear what he had to say. "This is absolutely gonna happen... You know it and I know it..." His nostrils flared as he inhaled and his eyes darkened behind his sunglasses. "And when it does? You're not gonna know what hit you, Bones..."

"You better not hit me, Booth," she knew the saying, but couldn't resist pulling out her literal-card, knowing it drove him crazy sometimes. "I'll hit you back..." She was suddenly flirting with him, blatantly and shamelessly flirting with her partner, and she didn't want to stop. "In many species, female members eat their mates after copulation, you know..." Raising one side of her mouth, she pressed up to her toes ever so slightly so she could speak closer to his ear. "Copulation is another word for..."

"Stop." He warned her, his breath suddenly coming out in short bursts. "Just... Stop, Bones."

She pulled back, dropping back down to her flat feet, smiling innocently. "Don't you want to know the origin of the word? It is derived from..."

"I don't need an English lesson, thank you very much," his words were clipped and his jaw ticked. "I know what it means and I don't give a shit where it comes from."

The partners were lost in a moment as they stood beside their sand art, searching each other's eyes, every now and then letting gazes slip down to lips before darting back up. The world around them faded away as it so often used to do, a welcome feeling for them both. They were shaken from their solitude by a boisterous intrusion.

"Jesus Christ, Booth," a male voice yelled from a short distance away. "Would you just kiss her and get it over with?!" Smitty shook his head as a pale pair of shocked eyes refocused on their surroundings and one set of dark browns pinned him from over the top rims of his sunglasses. The Dover agent just shook his head in disbelief. "Man alive... What the hell is he waiting for..." He muttered to the guy next to him as he started to walk away.

"Go to hell, Smitty!" Booth yelled across the relatively short space separating them, a phrase he was growing particularly fond of throwing out to the man. "We're just partners!"

"Whatever you gotta tell yourself, man!" Smitty called over his shoulder, holding back a smirk as others around them burst out laughing. "Partners my ass," he said quietly to the small group near the refreshment table. "You look at your partner like that, Jones?" He eyed the young agent he had met the night before.

"Um, no sir," Jones wrinkled his brow. "But then again, my partner is Agent Grady..."

Looking back down into the blue oceans that threatened to drown him on a daily basis, Booth grinned. "Guess we should get back to work... Unless you're done?" He shrugged, not really knowing her plans.

"My skeleton has no skull!" She couldn't believe he would suggest leaving an unfinished piece for their entry into the Team Building Event.

"Maybe he was decapitated..."

"_She_ was absolutely _not_ decapitated, Booth! Didn't you see the tiny bullet resting on the excellently rendered facsimile of an evidence tray?" She stormed back over to her side of the sculpture, squatting down and pulling him down alongside her. Pointing into the cross-section cut-away that she had meticulously carved, Brennan drew her partner's attention to the tiny, one-inch-square evidence tray replica. "See? Now, you're the investigator," she cocked and eyebrow, "why would I go through all this trouble if I was going to decapitate our victim?"

"Jesus, Bones," Booth huffed as he leaned in, suspending his weight on his hands against the wooden base. "How the hell did you carve something so small with so much detail?" He pulled his sunglasses down his nose and looked in at her work, realizing that the work he did was much less impressive. Glancing from the corner of his eye, he grinned at Brennan. "I think that you should leave her headless... It's almost as if it's been taken to a different part of the lab..." When she didn't look convinced at the absurdity of his harebrained idea, he bumped her shoulder. "C'mon, Bones. Let's go get some water an' take a dip..."

Her mind was made up for her when the two-hour whistle rang loud across the beach, calling an end to the contest. Brennan huffed in frustration and pushed up to her feet, glancing around as other attendees put their tools down and congratulated one another. Turning her pouty expression back at Booth, she grunted.

"If you hadn't interrupted me, I could have finished..."

Booth laughed and stood up, brushing his hands against his shorts. "Yeah, well, I had to do something, otherwise you were about to get molested by a bunch of horny guys..."

Walking over to collect her sarong and sandals, Brennan looked at Booth over her shoulder. "No... You wouldn't have let that happen..." She turned back and looked up at him as he approached.

"Damn right I wouldn't, Bones..." He draped an arm across her shoulders loosely and ushered her away from their tent. "I'm thirsty. And hot. Let's cool off..." There was, of course, a double entendre amidst the familiar undercurrent of their ever-present sexual tension. "C'mon... Let's go see who else I can threaten to beat up..."

B/B/B/B

"What's the matter, Bones, it looks good." Booth glanced down at her as they slowly made their way between the tents, pausing to look at other entries as they walked. "Shit, ours looks better than good, it looks killer." He grinned at his own joke, but could tell she didn't get it. "Killer? Like dead?" She gave no indication of even hearing him. "You know... 'Cause it's a dead body?" Rolling his eyes, he grumbled. "C'mon, that was a _little_ funny, Bones."

"Your usage of the word 'killer' in incorrect in that context, Booth." She frowned as she thought about her sand-skeleton, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "My rendition of the female pelvic girdle is inaccurate. It's out of proportion with the rest of the skeleton. _And_, it's missing the skull!"

He couldn't believe what she was saying... He looked at her, pausing them in their tracks. "Bones, you did an incredible job. No one is gonna know that the pancake griddle is inaccurate."

She chuckled. "_Pelvic girdle_, Booth. Not pancake griddle."

"Yeah, yeah... Well if I don't know what the hell its called, how many people do you think are going to realize it's outta proportion?"

She turned her pouty eyes to him, fighting back emotion that she didn't fully understand. "I wanted it to be perfect... I wanted us to win... I wanted you to still be proud to have a non-agent as your partner..."

Ignoring the small group of people who were moving past them, Booth chuckled and threw his arm over her shoulders again, drawing her near. "I am proud. I told you that, Bones... I'm glad to have a squint by my side..." He started to pull her away from the area. "Besides, I think you're forgetting to do something..."

"What?" She sounded like a little girl who was lost.

Turning her around once they were at the right distance, he redirected her line of vision. "You didn't step back for perspective before we walked away... And if you ask me, the overall picture, or sculpture in this case, is so much better than the individual sums of its parts." He turned her around and they looked at their tent from a short distance away.

In the brief time, they had successfully constructed a miniature sized Medico-Legal wing of the Jeffersonian Institute. Three sides of the building were filled with carved images of the things that made 'them' work. There were simple things like a coffee cup and pie and more practical things for law enforcement like handcuffs and a gun. (Brennan wanted two guns on there, one bigger than the other, to symbolize the size difference between their weapons, but Booth warned her that would be too much, so she acquiesced, _but only for the purpose of aesthetics.). _There was a carved SUV outline, as if it were parked in front of the double doors leading into the lab and on the far side there was even a rose garden of sorts, using some dead coral that Booth found on the beach and a carved shape resembling a duck, which they knew the judges wouldn't understand, but they didn't care. Around the bottom of two sides, Booth had written 'we don't argue, we bicker' and his partner approved immediately. Brennan had decided that the fourth side of the building should be a cut-away, giving the viewer a glimpse into their world of forensics. Even though Booth thought for sure it would be too difficult a task to accomplish in such a short time, Brennan successfully navigated her hands into the mini cut-out and made a skeleton on a platform inside, just as one might find during any given case if they were to walk into Brennan's lab.

Brennan was surprised to see the completed piece and she felt somewhat speechless, but also proud. "Booth..." She was quiet. "It looks good, doesn't it?" Her demeanor had done a complete one-eighty and she beamed up at him. Pressing against him slightly, she whispered, "maybe the judges won't notice the acute inaccuracy of the skeletal structure or question the missing head."

"I think there's a good chance it'll be overlooked, Bones." He glanced around as other teams wrapped up their work and greeted one another, congratulating each other on jobs well-done. "Whatcha say we walk around and see what some of the others have done. Then maybe we can grab a bottle of water and go take a dip before lunch?"

"That sounds like an acceptable idea." She turned to one of the neighboring pieces and started to scrutinize it.

Seeing the hamster wheel start to turn, Booth scooted close to her and spoke against the back of her head. "Keep your criticisms to yourself, Bones. You can tell me later if you have something to share... But people don't wanna hear their work ripped apart." When her cautious eyes turned up to him, he smiled reassuringly. "Just a gentle reminder, that's all."

As the partners walked around, admiring other pieces and congratulating those agents still nearby, they didn't pay attention to a trio of men sitting on the rock wall separating their hotel property from the beach. Then men, however, were very interested in the unconventional partners and they watched their interactions.

"You say they're sharing a room?" Parish asked Brandon Robinson as he drank from his water bottle.

"Seems that way. Every time we bump into them or see them down the hall, they're coming or going from the same door..."

"Wonder how serious it is." The third man, Diaz, watched the partners interacting with other agents by the refreshments table.

"Word has it, she's pretty easy," Parish responded. "She supposedly likes it with no strings attached... Maybe he's just getting his rocks off, but he was uber-possessive when I met them earlier..." he shrugged and let his eyes trail down the length of Brennan's body. "Wonder why she's all covered up..."

Robinson snorted. "Prob'ly 'cause she's not as hot as she pretends to be. You know women, they have all that special underwear that holds everything in place when they have clothes on... But look at 'em without clothes, or in just a bathing suit, and you get that," he jerked his chin in disgust towards a beach goer with far too much skin on display for Robinson's taste. "The good doc probably has flab she's covering..."

The men laughed, still watching the famous author as she allowed her partner to usher her to and fro. "He acts like her fucking watchdog," Diaz narrowed his eyes.

"Sure as hell laid claim to her like an animal," Parish eyed the bold letters across Brennan's back. "He's making sure everyone knows who she is..."

"If they're fuckin', isn't that against bureau policy? How can the be getting away with it?" Robinson looked between the two second-year-rookies that he had befriended, looking for some seasoned guidance that wasn't as goodie-goodie as Perotta. "I mean, I know they're good, but don't they still have to adhere to rules?"

"Not if she's contracted. That policy is in place for fellow _agents_... But she's an outsider, so the fraternization rules don't apply." Parish shook his head and continued to watch as the partners laughed and Booth once again controlled where they walked as he pressed against her back and directed her out towards the beach. Cocking an eyebrow, he nudged Diaz and Robinson. "Looks like we'll get to see what she's hiding beneath Booth's hockey shirt after all..."

All three smiled, waiting patiently to find fault with the woman as Booth and Brennan were deep in conversation. What they didn't expect was to nearly fall off the wall where they sat when she finally tugged off the oversized shirt, letting it join Booth's shirt on the sand.

B/B/B/B

"Bones, maybe you should keep the shirt on. The sun is strong. You're gunna burn."

"Don't be ridiculous, Booth. We are not going to be in the water for long, and it's hardly the strongest heat of the day yet."

"Yeah, but," he had to fight his instincts to hold the hem of the shirt she wore, "your skin is so fair..."

She eyed him from beneath lowered brows. "Booth. There are plenty of other women out here. No one is going to be paying attention to me. There is no need to be jealous..." She grinned as she teased her partner, using his confession upstairs as ammunition against his poorly executed interjection to her bathing suit. "Look at Shaw, and her partner," she pointed out into the water where the ladies were already swimming. "Their suits are both far more revealing than mine." When she turned back to Booth she saw his eyes hadn't moved from her.

"I don't wanna look at Shaw and Janet," his voice dropped by half an octave as he steeped closer. "And you're crazy if you think no one is going to be lookin' at you." He tilted his head and said a silent prayer to the Big Guy upstairs for dark sunglasses, because he was certainly looking at her... With heated eyes that he was certain were well-dilated despite the bright sun.

"Nobody but you, maybe," she was flirting heavily, dangerously, but she didn't care. He had almost kissed her upstairs, had her pressed against the wall, and frankly she wanted it again. She wanted to feel it again...to feel the exhilaration of her blood pumping through her veins and her limbs going weak. Only next time, she wanted more... She wanted his lips on hers, his hands on her body, his hard chest pressed against her soft curves... She crossed her arms in front of her and pulled the shirt up quickly, dropping it on top of his shirt, which had landed in the soft sand next to her wrap. She eyed him coyly, admiring the hard planes of his abdomen and his smooth, olive-toned skin. "I should be the one worrying, Booth, not the other way around," she met his eyes with such honesty that it almost scared her. Suddenly afraid she had said too much, she took a deep breath and smiled, pushing them past this moment. "We should go swimming... I need to cool off."

Hearing a touch of hesitancy and insecurity in her statement, he fell in step with her as they approached the surf. "Yeah, you and me, both, Bones," he muttered, in desperate need to cool down. As they entered the chilled water of the Atlantic, he could swear he heard a sizzle.

**Postscript A/N**

**So did you like this? **

**Please don't read and run! Please take a moment to review and share your thoughts as I have shared mine! I relish the feedback I get in reviews and I value the inspiration. Even though this story is pretty much written, feedback allows me to tweak and modify in ways that I think you, as the readers, would better enjoy. **

**I look forward to hearing from you all! **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N. Hello and welcome back! Thanks for sticking with me on this little journey!**

**Sadly, I must air out some dirty laundry here in my author's note, so I apologize now to those of you who don't want to read it. Typically I take negative reviews with a grain of salt, realizing that not everyone is going to like my writing style, or enjoy my depictions of the characters, or even that a reader might be having a particularly bad day and I just happen to be on the receiving end of the shitstorm. But I must admit, I took personal offense to one particular comment that was made by a reader who didn't sign in, and therefore did not give me the opportunity to respond in private, like civilized people do. **

**To the guest who was offended by my use of the term 'feminist' in the last chapter, and decided that I needed an education as to the definition of the word: I ask you to not judge me so critically, but to instead, look at the source of the comment - look at who said it. Just because a I wrote the line, in which an ignorant, immature individual makes his stupidity apparent doesn't mean, number one, that I don't know what the word means, or number two, that I, *jazzyproz*, believe such things. Just because a writer writes something doesn't mean they live, breathe and die by the standards defined therein. It simply means that they have the capabilities to step outside themselves and occasionally write something to the contrary. And if you judge me by one little line I've written, among the thousands of lines I've posted on this site, then you actually have my sympathy because you obviously live in a very limited and, most likely, lonely universe. To say you were "**_**liking [the] story until the "almost a feminist" line**_**" tells me that you are narrow-minded and quick to pass judgement on anyone who may think or speak even the slightest bit differently than you... That's a damn sad reflection on your own personality faults. If you don't like something, stop reading it and move on. If you insist to leave a condescending review, at least have the balls to sign in so we can all see who you are and have the opportunity to respond in kind. **

**There... That's done. Now we can move on. **

**To the rest of you. Thank you for your continued support, and kind and constructive comments. I appreciate it greatly. **

**I still don't own anything... If I did, Bones would be on cable, where they could show sex scenes... A lot of them... In every episode...repeatedly... Without so many commercial breaks! Lol**

B/B/B/B

Swimming over to where Shaw and Janet were treading and chatting, just passing the time, Booth and Brennan joined in their conversation. As the morning passed, between the sand sculpting and the relaxation of the ocean, Brennan felt more comfortable with Genevieve Shaw, and she recognized the spark that Booth saw in the young woman. The anthropologist, while still cautious to protect her privacy when getting to know people, found herself enjoying their interaction and admitted in her mind that it might not be a bad thing to work a case with the junior agent in the future, once Shaw had a little more field experience on her resume.

Their little circle enlarged as more people decided to take advantage of the warm weather and cool water. They were joined by Marcus Gray and his partner, an older man named Reggie and a few agents who had to introduce themselves because Booth didn't know them well enough to introduce his partner. Before long, Perotta was wading out towards the gathering and Booth saw Brennan's keen eyes following the smaller woman's movements from the moment she stepped into the surf. He moved closer, allowing the ocean swells to cause him to 'accidentally' bump into her.

"Hey," he said quietly, not really whispering, but quiet enough that it was clearly an address for only her. "I know you don't like her much, but she's a good agent, Bones. I'm gonna have a word with her this afternoon about her partner. I don't think she knows about his file and while I can't disclose all the specifics, I think she deserves at least a heads up."

Feeling defensive, Brennan turned her cool blues to her partner. "I don't _dis_like her, Booth. I simply don't approve of the way her eyeballs _twinkle_ when she talks to you..." Her tone made it perfectly clear to Booth that his partner was still fighting the ugly green monster that was jealousy.

"Bones," one side of his mouth curled up, "I do believe _your_ eyes just turned a shade greener than normal."

Understanding his meaning perfectly, and hating the extent to which he was enjoying himself, the scientist launched forward, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him underwater. Once his head was below the surface, a wide grin broke out across her face and she turned to swim away, only to be caught around the waist by his strong forearm just as he came back up for air.

"That was not nice, Bones," he laughed as he pulled her back. "You're gonna have to pay for that..."

The group didn't know what had provoked the sudden attack on the FBI's top investigator, but many cheered as his partner squirmed in a feeble attempt to escape his ironclad hold. After coming dangerously close to touching her inappropriately, Booth repositioned his hands, thankful they were submerged beneath the surface of the ocean. Pulling her back flush against his chest, he felt her body go limp in attempt to fool him into relenting. This was a game they often played with Parker at her pool, and his son had clued Brennan in on the trick that he was, in his childhood innocence, certain fooled Booth every time. "_Let your body go limp and Dad'll let you go_, _and then you can turn around and dunk him again,_" the boy had told Brennan conspiratorially, though not as quietly as he thought. Booth knew the trick, but he let his son get away with it... His partner was another story. He knew that she was perfectly capable of defending herself against his playful attack, so he wasn't going to let her get away with it so easily.

Holding her firmly, he fought to keep his hands against her material-covered abdomen, in a safe-zone. "Give up, Bones," he grinned knowingly.

She didn't answer as she struggled to hide the smile threatening to break free. It was hard for her to not fight back, she knew that if she really tried, she could metaphorically take Booth down, she was quicker and more limber underwater. She wanted to surprise him, but something told her that it wasn't going to be so easy.

"Say it," he warned playfully, turning his back to most of the crowd. "I'll let you go if you just say it..."

She just dangled, letting the waves move her arms and legs freely. When his fingers flexed against her stomach tickling her, she couldn't hold it in anymore. She burst out laughing and threw her head back, coming close to head-butting him in the nose, but he managed to move to the side a split second before she made contact. "Stop!" She laughed and tried in vain to pry his fingers from her body. "Ahh, Booth! Ok, ok," she part-screamed and part-groaned in defeat. "That's not fair!"

Keeping his movements to a minimum, trying to control his baser instincts, he did nothing more than flex his fingertips into the soft flesh beneath them. "Say it."

"I give up!" He released her immediately and she swam away a little, but did an about face faster than he expected, diving beneath the waves and knocking him off balance by grabbing his ankles, sending him toppling over behind her. When she pushed up from the waves like a Phoenix from the ashes, she beamed in triumph as she watched him also break the surface. "Gotcha."

"Good one, Bones," he nodded in approval of her moves. "I'll get you back," he acquiesced for the moment, promising to exact his revenge when she was least expecting it. He faced his colleagues, _and_ their ceaseless teasing about his partner besting him, with a bright smile, accepting the jabs with an easy humor for which he was so well known. In truth, he never planned on beating her anyway, especially among his counterparts. Knowing she was apprehensive about being the only contracted partner participating in the conference, he wanted her to come out on top, so to speak, for her own self esteem among the agents. When she sidled up beside him, back in the gathering of people, he grinned and winked at her, bumping her shoulder in approval and rejoined the conversations bouncing around the group.

The partners soon fell into an easy interaction with many of the agents who had joined their little circle, turning it into a much bigger gathering in the waist-deep ocean. Booth introduced Brennan to those he knew as they continued to socialize, and he was happy to see her settling into a comfort zone, as he, too, settled in, realizing that the motives of most of the guys he had initially questioned or speculated as sexual interest truly seemed to be innocent curiosity. Booth watched and listened with pride as his partner patiently answered endless questions about her books, her various characters, and yes, if Agent Andy was really Booth, to which, she gave her standard reply: _all characters in my books are fictional, any similarity between living people and those I write about is purely coincidence_.

So many of the attendees were assigned to divisions and departments which didn't deal with homicide and death, that she was pelted with queries about handling bodily remains and identifying partial skeletons. Surprisingly, a handful of the younger men and women were intently interested in forensic anthropology as a field of study, as many of them were still taking part-time college courses as part of their FBI-sponsored Continuing Education program. Booth could tell, just from his partner's confidence and demeanor, that she was in her glory, discussing topics with which she was intimately familiar and happy to share with anyone who would listen.

A poorly executed and chaotic game of frisbee broke out rather suddenly, sending many people scrambling out of the path of the flying disc. After taking part in the fun for a little while, Booth and Brennan decided to excuse themselves in favor of getting some lunch, and if Booth was honest, he wanted to get his partner out of the sun or at least take a break long enough to apply sunblock; her pale shoulders were showing definite signs of sunburn. Making their way back up to their belongings, they collected fresh towels from the supply table and dried themselves as they walked.

"Did you wanna eat in the outdoor cafe, Bones?" Booth nodded towards the patio where lunch, consisting of sandwiches and salads, was still being served. "Or you wanna go inside?"

"Outside would be nice, I think." She bent over and picked up her sarong, tying it low on her hips as she slipped on her sandals. When she accepted the shirt he outstretched to her, she grinned and folded it neatly in her arms. "I think I'll be fine with just my wrap, Booth." Grinning, she decided to tease him a little as he pulled on his shoes. "I think you were all worried and jealous for nothing, Booth. Your colleagues were simply interested in my work...in _our_ work. Not in _me_..." She waited for his argument but was pleasantly surprised when he simply nodded in agreement.

Knowing that both topics were battles he was destined to lose, Booth didn't even try to formulate a response, accepting that his partner was going to wear what she wanted and tease him relentlessly about his concerns when it came to members of his own sex. "We should at least get you some suntan lotion, Bones." He decided to change the subject...that usually worked.

She glanced down at her shoulders and realized he was right. "Yes. I should apply some protection since today is only the first time I've been in the sun this season. My epidermis is sensitive to excess ultraviolet rays and hasn't yet had ample time to condition or acclimate to the harsh summer sun."

Booth deadpanned his eyes at her when he pulled his shirt down and smoothed it over his chest, straightening his religious metal blindly. "_You burn_, Bones."

"That's what I said." Her brow wrinkled when he simply repeated her own statement.

"Yeah, but I said easier..." He chuckled and extended his arm in the direction of the hotel. "Shall we?"

Laughing at his impish expression, she walked past him, only to be quickly joined with him at her side instead of behind her. They paused at the Beach Hut Sundries Station, where Booth presented his room key, charging a bottle of lotion to his tab before continuing on to the cafe. As they passed a group of conference volunteers packing up the remnants of the snack station, Brennan stopped cold when someone called out.

"Tempe? Holy shit! I'd recognize that face anywhere."

Sensing immediate tension raking through his partner's entire body, Booth physically placed himself between the stranger and _his_ Bones. When she made no move to even acknowledge the man, Booth felt his protective hackles raise.

"Tempe? Hey!" The man trotted to gain ground on the partners, trying to look around Booth's imposing stance.

Inhaling sharply, and thankful that her partner was so intune with her reactions, Brennan turned in place, remaining slightly behind his right shoulder, holding the shirt protectively to her abdomen. "What are you doing here Benny?"

Her voice was cold as ice and Booth barely held off a shiver, but he kept his eyes on the squirrely man before him.

"Oh, it's Ben, now. Or Benjamin. We're adults... 'Benny' sounds so juvenile." His smile reminded Booth of a stereotypical slimy used car salesman, one not to be trusted, but in the man's eyes glimmered something far more sinister...something that reminded him of his drunken, abusive father and a serial killer.

"What do you want, Benny?" Her words snapped out, making it crystal clear to Booth, as if the apprehension radiating from her wasn't enough, that his partner wanted nothing to do with the man in front of him.

"Well," the stranger's actions indicated he was hurt, but the glint in his eye told a completely different story. "I saw you," he pointed over his shoulder, "walking up from the beach. I'd know that gorgeous square jaw and those striking blues anywhere... You look good, Tempe." His eyes dragged down the length of her body, admiring the sun-kissed skin on display. "Real good..."

She shuffled to stand behind Booth a little more and unfurled the shirt, pulling it over her head hastily. Side-stepping back out, she squared her shoulders and faced the man with her partner at her side. "Leave me alone, Benny. I don't have anything to say to you."

"Hey, wait a sec," he extended his arm to touch her, only to find it clamped in the iron grip of Booth's hand.

"Simmer down, there, buddy. Hands off." He pushed Benny further away, using the man's own arm as leverage. Not taking his eyes off the stranger, he addressed his partner. "Who is this guy, Bones?"

"He's nobody. _Absolutely nobody_," she placed her hand on his bicep, pulling him back closer to her. "Come on, Booth. Let's go eat."

Booth let his partner pull his arm back until it was stretched out behind him, but he leaned his body close to Ben. "I don't know who you are yet. But I _will_ find out. In the meantime, I think my partner's made it pretty damn clear she doesn't want anything to do with you, so I suggest you stay the hell away from her. Got it?"

Squaring his own shoulders, Ben stood toe to toe with Booth. They were nearly the same size and build, though Booth appeared a few years older than himself. He cocked his head sideways and grinned crookedly. "I'm working this convention. I go where they tell me to go."

"Yeah, well you better make damn sure that they tell you to go someplace _other_ than where she is. 'Cause if they don't? There's gonna be hell to pay."

"You don't scare me just because you're FBI, pal," Ben narrowed his eyes.

Feeling his partner tug impatiently, Booth simply grinned. "You shouldn't be scared because I'm FBI. You should be scared because I don't like people messing with my partner." Finally relenting to her manhandling, he backed away from the stranger, determined to get to the bottom of the confrontation he didn't fully understand but would do again in a heartbeat if his Bones was upset.

They found a small square table on the far corner of the patio, close to the building and away from the few remaining patrons who were still eating. Happy to see that it was not crowded, Booth pulled Brennan's chair out for her, putting her back to the beach, and effectively, to the last place they encountered the mysterious Ben. He sat to her right, rather than across from her, giving him an excellent overview of their surroundings and the closeness to Brennan that he desired.

Just as he was ready to ask her to explain, the waitress appeared to take their drink orders and offer menus. Brennan looked at her partner as the woman walked away, knowing he wanted answers, she spoke up, quietly.

"Let's order our food first. Then we can talk, ok?"

Understanding that she needed to compose herself and regain her balance, Booth nodded and looked down at his menu, deciding immediately when he spotted a meatloaf sandwich listed in their special _comfort foods_ section. "Aw, man." He grinned and closed his eyes in distant memory. "My grams used to make the best meatloaf in Philly. Hands down." He opened his eyes again and looked at his partner. "Pops used to say that was how she won him over in the end...she made him a meatloaf sandwich." He watched as her face relaxed, knowing how fond of his grandfather she had become. "I guess I got my eating habits from him."

"Oh, you're trying to tell me that Hank is a bottomless pit as well? I don't believe you." It felt good to just laugh for a moment, just being themselves without caring who was around or who they had just encountered. "Your grandfather has much better eating habits than you do, Booth."

Before Booth could retort, their drinks arrived and they were ordering their meals. As the waitress took their menus away with a smile, Booth reached for the bottle of suntan lotion, absently shaking it, waiting for Brennan to start talking, which, from experience, he knew she would do in her own time. She started with small-talk, a way to break the metaphoric ice and pave the way to the more difficult topic at hand.

"I think that the sand sculpting activity was a success overall. In the end, it appeared that everyone had a good time." She smiled as she watched his hands moving the bottle, turning it and and spinning it, pausing only once to read the label. "And there were a lot of really nice displays."

"Yeah," he flipped the top open, closed, and open again. "It turned out to be pretty cool. And," he squirted some lotion into his palm, "even though there were some nice ones over there," he reached for her right hand and drew it close, holding it still while he ran his lotioned hand up her forearm starting at her wrist and stopping at her elbow, where the shirtsleeve stopped, "I still think we had the best entry." He grinned up at her, refocusing on his self-appointed task immediately, lest she shoo him away. "I mean," he moved his hand up and down her forearm again, smoothing the protection into her tender skin, "nobody else has an _excellently rendered headless skeleton_." He grinned when he used her own words back at her, and he felt her arm relax at last. Getting more lotion from the bottle, he applied it again, this time starting at her hand, using both of his to massage the lotion in.

Brennan grew silent as she watched Booth expertly handle her limb. His thumbs drew large, alternating circles across the back of her hand and then he moved further up her antebrachium. One wide palm covered the distal side and the other applied the sweet-smelling coconut cream to the proximal, each alternating its direction as he moved from wrist to elbow and back down. Whenever he reached her elbow, he slowly moved back down, his fingers flexing and caressing as they moved, making her forget all about their encounter with Benny. When he released his hold, only for a moment to replenish his palm-full of lotion, she glanced up to see his face. He looked peaceful, at total ease with his movements, though they had never touched like this before. When she realized he was reaching for her left hand, she pushed it closer, giving him easy access to dote the same manipulating treatment on her thus-far neglected arm.

"I enjoyed the ocean. It was nice being able to interact with your colleagues, Booth." Her voice was soft, her words breathy and forced, as if she was having trouble concentrating. "Some of them are keen to attend my next lecture at AmU in the Fall."

He smiled, knowing she was not only pleased to have something significant to offer these agents, but that she was indeed proud of herself for socializing and successfully navigating a multi-directional conversation with several people at once. "That's great, Bones. You'll have a full house, I hope." And he really _did_ hope her lecture was so sought-after that there was standing room only. He loved it when she delivered a lecture to an overflowing auditorium because she always came away with an air of confidence that differed from her typical, every-day-snobbiness that he had come to adore over the years. "I think you built quite the fan club out there," he laughed gently, watching the play of her soft skin beneath his calloused hands as he continued to rub in the lotion. The stark difference of her pale skin against his darker olive complexion was never more evident than right in that moment and in the back of his mind, he imagined what the rest of her soft, supple body would feel like when he finally got to touch it.

The partners grew quiet for a few moments while Booth removed Brennan's dolphin ring so he could ensure each of her fingers was protected from the harsh sun. As his movements slowed, nearing the end of his excuse to touch her, since he had completely lathered her lower arms in SPF 35, and he slipped the ring back onto her finger, something snapped inside Brennan and she knew she was ready to talk.

"It was February 26th..." She began quietly, nearly whispering.

Booth leaned in closer, not wanting to miss anything that she wanted him to know. Innately, he knew to maintain his touch, so he simply wrapped her right hand in his, resting between them on the tabletop.

Raising hesitant blue eyes up to meet her partner's understanding gaze, she continued between shaky breaths. "You know... Right after mom and dad left... And Russ left." She swallowed thickly, reminding herself that there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. "I had been in a group home, which I thought was the worst possible condition..." Reaching for her glass of iced tea, she paused before taking a sip. "I have never been so wrong in my life. Not before, not since."

Booth hung on every word, every syllable she spoke, wanting to soak in everything she would entrust in him, but mostly wanting to get to the bottom of her bizarre behavior towards the unknown man down by the beach. He rubbed his thumb encouragingly across the back of her hand, letting her know to continue when she was ready.

Watching as his wide, masculine hand engulfed her own much thinner hands, she was distracted for just a moment before continuing her story. "I thought that when a family chose me to foster, it would be a good thing, that I would have the chance to live in a nice home like the one I had grown up in... But that first home...it wasn't like that. Keith and June Ledbetter. Their names became the first on my list..." She fought off tears unsuccessfully as she looked back up to see Booth's compassionate eyes watching her carefully. When he brought his empty hand up to thumb away the disobedient tear that was rolling down her cheek, she closed her eyes and leaned into his fingers ever so slightly, pulling strength from him. Opening them again, now with more clarity, she told him the story.

"Benny is Keith and June's biological son. He is a year older than I am... I was scared, you know? I was only fifteen, I was awkward, an introvert... I had never been exposed to poverty like that which I saw in the system. Mom and dad always made sure we had good meals, clean clothes, basic hygiene... We were not wealthy, but we were provided a foundation for healthy living... But in the foster system... No one cares like that. At least no one I ever met did..." She paused, gathering her thoughts again.

"I had been living with the Ledbetters for about two weeks when Benny started making advances towards me. I didn't want him to do that. I didn't want anything to do with him... And when I told him, he started spreading rumors about me at school. He started saying how I was easy and practically begging him for sex all the time... He said that I pranced around the house practically naked... And the other kids at school? They believed him... when I was fostered out, I had to change school districts. I wasn't in a school where kids knew me, knew what I was like... These were strangers looking down on me for being a foster child. And that was through no fault of my own, Booth! I didn't ask to be abandoned!" She started to get upset as more tears peaked out the corners of her eyes.

"Hey, hey," he released her hand and brought both palms up to cradle her delicate jaw. "I know." He kept his voice soft, leaning in closer. "I know you didn't. You didn't deserve to be left like that. But there was nothing you could do, Bones. You were just a kid. I mean, a young adult, but really a child..."

Feeling the strength of his reassurances, and seeing the devotion in his eyes, she found the ability to continue. When he reclaimed his hold on her hand, she spoke again, "The Ledbetters were horrible people... I got only the bare minimum to eat, just enough to sustain me. I was given a room that was about the size of a storage closet. It had a bed and two milk crates for a dresser. And remember, it was February, it was cold outside, but the heating in my little room was nearly non-existent. Many nights I slept in my pajamas _and_ clothes just to keep warm. The only reason they took me in was to get the extra money from the government. Back then, there were no screening processes like the ones they have now... It was awful..."

She rolled her lips between her teeth and took another drink. "On the evening of March seventeenth, not quite a month after I went to live with them, I was in taking a shower and June came bursting into the bathroom, screaming at me, calling me a tramp and a tease and a slut and," she shook her head, "I don't even remember what else she called me." Shrugging one shoulder, she looked at her partner. "June was supposed to be working. She usually worked the night shift stocking shelves at the local supermarket. I don't know why she came home that night... But she did."

Booth watched as a storm brewed behind his partner's gorgeous blue eyes. His heart ached for what she must have gone through and he wished he could take away all her pain.

Swallowing thickly, she continued, fighting tears of humiliation. "I looked past June and saw Keith standing in the hall, fixing his pants..." She sniffed. "It was then that I realized there was a hole in the bathroom door, a tiny one, through which he and Benny watched me." She leaned forward, anxious for her partner to understand. "I didn't know, Booth. I never even thought to inspect the door prior to using the restroom... It wasn't something in my collective consciousness to even consider... I wasn't raised in a world where things like that happened."

"Of course you didn't know, Bones. And you shouldn't have had to. It wasn't your fault." He spoke quietly but his conviction was firm.

"I know that now... As an adult I can understand that I didn't do anything to provoke the treatment I received... But I didn't know it then... I didn't understand what was happening. I don't know how long they had been looking at me through that hole... Probably the whole time I was living there." She was certain her partner could see the embarrassment flaming in her cheeks, but she couldn't quell it. "And it was pretty obvious, when I saw him re-buckling his belt, what he had been doing there in the hall while I was showering... There was no shower curtain in the tub..." Her voice had died down to nearly a whisper as she got lost in the tormented memory. She looked down to where Booth's hand was grasping hers tightly, his thumb still gliding smoothly across her skin. "She yanked me by my hair back to my room, I was only covered with a towel, and she watched me dress and then shoved the rest of my meager belongings into a trash bag and took me back to the county home that night." Her eyes flickered up to Booth's and back down again, not yet ready to tell him the rest. "I never saw her or Keith again..."

Releasing her hand, Booth reached up and cupped her face again, pulling her towards him, where he tucked her face into the crook of his shoulder, nuzzling his nose into her damp, windblown hair. He knew there was more to the story, but he recognized that she wasn't ready to tell him the rest just yet. Booth ran his open hands down his best friend's back and simply held her trembling frame, willing her to trust in him. When he felt her arms stretch around his torso, he had his answer and he pressed a light kiss above her ear. "I'm so sorry you went through that, Bones. That man should have been arrested... And if I ever get my hands on him, I'll kill him."

"I think he's dead. I saw an obituary years later about a man named Keith Ledbetter who was killed in an accident in which he was driving drunk. I assume it was the same Keith Ledbetter, but I didn't spend time researching it."

Scanning the beach for any sign of Benny, Booth's eyes moved steadily, but found nothing. "If Ben comes anywhere near you this week, I swear, Bones, it'll be the last time."

Brennan felt the familiar, welcome vibrations of Booth's voice transferring from his body into hers as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, and she felt washed with a sense of calm, knowing she was with the one man in her life with whom she could trust that story. But not wanting him to fight her metaphorical battles, she pulled back slowly, sensing his reluctance and finally his acceptance to let her go.

"Booth, I am not a frightened child anymore. I can take care of myself if Ben comes around. I was just so caught off guard when he called out to me, and approached us back there. I never planned to see him again... He hasn't haunted my nightmares for years." Reaching up, she touched his cheek, brushing it gently with her fingertips as if wiping away dirt, following her own movements with a sharp eye.

"I know you can defend yourself, Bones. But you don't _have_ to." He didn't want to smother her, he knew how desperately close she had come to running on more than one occasion in these recent months since Hannah's departure. "Just...let me know if you need me. For _anything_, Bones."

Smiling, she nodded. "I will." She pulled back completely, sitting back in her chair as she released her final grip of his shirt. "Thank you, Booth."

He winked and smiled, pushing down all the anger and frustration he felt that he couldn't go find Benjamin Ledbetter and pummel his ass into the ground right then and there. Reaching out, he grabbed the suntan lotion bottle again, shaking it once before dispensing a small amount onto his fingertips. As he spun in his seat, he knuckled her chin gently, so she would face him. Without speaking, he reached up and spread a dollop of lotion on her cheek and slowly rubbed it into her flesh, taking his time to carefully cover every millimeter of her perfect skin.

Brennan's eyelids grew uncontrollably heavy at Booth's gentle touch. Letting them fall closed, she became intensely focused on the extreme juxtaposition of the unparalleled tenderness delivered by calloused, weathered fingers that were more accustomed to holding a gun and flipping a poker chip than to applying sunblock. Without permission, her body slowly leaned forward, straining to be closer to him, needing as much contact as he would offer. As his hand skated across her skin, she found herself slipping into a daydream, a world away from the harrowing memories she had just revealed for the first time ever. She imagined herself with Booth, just as she had been doing for years, in an intimate relationship, in a setting where they could openly show affection without ridicule and without the threat of losing the professional personas they had so carefully constructed. She wondered how it would feel to have his hands running over her whole body, much as they were over her face... She felt her heart rate increase as her imagination took her further down the metaphorical rabbit hole of fantasies.

Booth watched the path his hand took as he caressed her skin, adding a dot of lotion here and there as needed. Letting the world around them fade away, his dark eyes followed every delicate contour of her distinguished cheekbones, all the way down to the gentle curve of her jaw. He watched her throat work to swallow as her breathing pattern increased and he pretended not to notice when a tiny, nearly inaudible mewl escaped. Letting his sunglasses slip down to the tip of his nose, he studied her reactions to his touch, committing them to memory just in case he never had the privilege to witness them again. Her heartbeat, mesmerizing and hypnotic, was visible beneath the soft skin of her suprasternal notch and the desire to lean in and press the flat of his tongue against the pulsing rhythm was almost irresistible. Only the beautiful flush spreading up her neck to her cheeks, meeting across the perfect bridge of her slightly turned-up nose could distract him from the baser instinct to latch onto her neck and mark her as his.

Knowing full well that he had sufficiently covered her face with enough lotion to last through the rest of the day, he still couldn't pull his fingers away. At that point, he was simply touching her in a way that he'd never dared before, and he was quite certain he was addicted. Her skin was flawless, smooth like glass and definitely the finest he had ever felt. Lightly, he dragged just his forefinger along the skin just below her nose, pausing as he reached the gentle dip that automatically took his finger down to her lip, where he proceeded to tenderly outline the graceful shape that had been calling to him for years, but never more than right in that moment. He was so close he could glimpse between her slightly parted lips and see the pink tip of her tongue struggling against peeking out.

Brennan felt like she was floating, it made no logical sense, because she knew perfectly well that she was still sitting at the tiny cafe table with her partner, but logic escaped her for the moment. She could feel his strength, his carefully reined power, vibrating through his body and feeding into her through his one point of seductive contact. The electricity that his single finger generated, so near that if she were to lift her chin a millimeter, she could kiss it, taste it, pull it between her lips, rendered her speechless...

Booth was startled when he glanced up and saw her eyes opening slowly, her brilliant blues finding his immediately. He forgot how to breath when Brennan dropped her gaze to his mouth and back up again, her pupils pulsing in dilation. Stilling his movements, he replaced his index finger with his thumb, bringing it to her pouty lower lip. As if they existed in a slow motion world, his peripheral vision caught movement as her hand stretched out, reaching towards his chest, and in his mind, he saw his entire future unfolding in front of him. A future with her, their ups and downs, the beautiful babies they would make, and warm, sleepy mornings waking up beside her for the rest of his life.

"Booth," she breathed his name, longing to taste him, to feel his mouth covering hers.

Cradling her jaw, he swiped his thumb across her cheek and guided her ever so slowly, bringing her closer. "I'm here, Bones," he whispered in response, tilting his head slightly to the right.

"Sorry it took so long," the clueless waitress rushed over to their table, breathless for far different reasons than her customers. Placing their plates before them, along with fresh beverages, she glanced down at her order pad. "They've got me covering the patio _and_ the lounge," she looked up and smiled awkwardly at the couple who was staring at her in disbelief. Realizing that she should have paid closer attention to the handsome couple before approaching the table with their order, her smile faded. "Um," looking between them, she apologized. "Sorry." Wanting to escape the harsh glares, she started to back away. "Please let me know if there is anything else I can get for you."

They turned and met each other's gaze, both knowing the spell had been broken and neither knowing how to move forward. Wanting to smooth over the uncomfortable tension that had abruptly settled over them, Booth reached out and cupped her bicep, squeezing gently. "Let's go ahead and eat, Bones." He could see that her spirits had completely deflated, and she almost looked as though she regretted what had almost happened. Unable to stop his hand, it moved on its own accord up to her jaw, where he stroked the backs of his fingers. The flicker of light that flashed behind her cautious blues was all the evidence he needed. He smiled and rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone. "You look so pretty," the words spilled from his lips without permission and he was glad to see her anxiety ease.

"Stop," she laughed and looked down at her salad, secretly appreciative of his compliment, but far more comfortable deflecting it. Sneaking a glance from beneath heavy eyelids, she saw his pleased expression as he examined the contents of his platter, and she innately knew it wasn't the food making him smile like that.

**Postscript A/N. **

**Dammit! These two are always getting cockblocked, aren't they? How frustrating for them... And a little frustrating for us too. )**

**Thanks for reading, please leave a review! **

**peace and love, my friends**

**~jazzy**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N Hello and welcome back! Thank you for your continued interest in my story! I am glad so many of you seem to enjoy it. **

**Thanks, also, for all the new follows and favorites; I've seen a lot of new names pop up on my emails, and I really appreciate it! **

**Disclaimer: Still own nothin'! Just this story and the characters I'm making up along the journey! **

"Hey, Mickey," Booth smiled as his friend approached them on the public terrace behind the hotel. After they finished lunch, he and Brennan had settled on a couple of lounge chairs overlooking the beach and pool area, and were currently working out their schedule preferences for the week.

"Hi, Booth, hello Temperance." Mickey smiled at his former Army buddy. He had been standing slightly behind them for several moments, observing their easy interactions, and he felt happy for Booth. While the Special Agent had vehemently denied being in a personal relationship with his scientist-partner, it was clearly evident to Mickey that Booth adored her. Again, he contemplated the possibility of recruiting Booth to relocate and take over his field office when he retired. As Mickey watched the partners converse, observing their facial expressions and body language, he came to accept the extreme unlikelihood that Booth would be enthusiastic about such a change. He knew, too, that his friend had a son just over the Maryland state line, not far from here he lived, which was certainly another check mark against his desire to bring Booth down to Charlotte.

Sensing an acceptable point of interruption, the older man started forward, acting as though he had just happened upon them and hadn't been seeking them out for thirty minutes. "So I talked to Jean this morning and told her you were here," he chuckled as he sat down in a nearby chair. "You two still up for dinner one evening?"

"Yes," Brennan was the first to answer, surprising her partner with her eagerness. "Will she definitely be joining you this week?"

"Yep. She'll be here Wednesday late morning." He turned his gaze to Booth and saw a twinkle in his eye. "She is very eager to see you again, Booth. Said its been too long." Both men laughed and Mickey continued. "How's about dinner Wednesday night? As far as the convention is concerned, we have free evenings Wednesday and Thursday, so if Wednesday is no good, we could try for Thursday."

Booth shook his head and answered for them both. "No, Wednesday should be fine. We hadn't made any plans yet, so," he shrugged, "that sounds good."

Mickey spared a glance to Brennan to see if she agreed and saw the affirmative nod of her head. "Great. She is really looking forward to meeting you, Temperance. Just a warning, though... She reads your books." He extended his hands in a surrender fashion. "I told her she has to behave and isn't allowed to drill you about them, though. But she is a big fan, and I know she is looking forward to meeting you; both because of your books and because you're Booth's partner." He winked conspiratorially. "I told her a little about your sand sculpture entry, and about how well you two 'compromised' during the session." He was actually referring to the near-constant bickering that all those nearby were witness to. He laughed, "she said she simply _must_ meet the person who actually manages to challenge and conquer Seeley Booth."

Booth nearly spit out the mouthful of water he had just taken, laughing at the notion of Brennan conquering him. "What did you tell her, Mickey? What do you mean _conquer_? You make it sound like she's the superior partner here, rather than my equal counterpart."

"Booth," Brennan interrupted his rant. "There are many aspects of our partnership in which I would be considered superior. Would you like me to list them for you?" She feigned innocence, knowing full well why her alpha-male was choking on his beverage.

He narrowed an eye at her. "Don't start, Bones. There are plenty of aspects where I reign supreme. So I don't think you wanna be measuring our abilities like that."

Brennan burst out laughing and nodded at Mickey, understanding that her partner's pal was trying to get a rise. "Tell your wife I am looking forward to meeting her, Mickey."

After a while, Mickey excused himself, wanting to give his favorite DC Agent some privacy with his _just-a-partner_. Sitting there with them and conversing with the brilliant, though admittedly awkward scientist, he could understand why Booth was drawn to her. She was charming and funny, in a completely classical nerdy way, and she put up absolutely no pretenses. In his line of work he had met a few celebrities when films were being made in his county, and he had encountered a handful of his own favorite authors at book signings in the local book shop. His experience was always that the majority of these people had a certain entitled air about them, as if they looked down on the general public rather than appreciating their fans the way they should. But Dr. Temperance Brennan displayed none of those unattractive qualities. She engaged him in conversation, listened attentively and responded with a candor that was seldom seen. He had thoroughly enjoyed chatting with her and Booth, and found that he was looking forward to an evening out with them. He realized that he might have to excuse himself from participating in future judge-based contests in which Booth and Brennan were party, because he knew that he would have trouble being impartial to them above any other attendees.

"So, Bones," Booth pushed up so he was sitting straighter. "You wanna do anything this afternoon? Our semi-formal isn't until 6:30, we have time to nose around town if you want."

Brennan thought for a few minutes. "I can't think of anything specific that I would like to do in just a few hours. If we had more time, like half a day, we could have just hopped on the expressway and driven for a while..."

"Well," he sat back and looked out across the beach. "Tell ya what, tomorrow is pretty much free once we've suffered through whatever hellish team building activity they've got planned for us. How about we just take off after we're done? You know, we can pick a place to eat out and about, and just escape for a bit before we're held captive here for the rest of the week." He grinned and turned back to find her looking at him.

"You make it sound like this place is some primitive prison, Booth. Even if we have to attend classes and participate in workshops, it's a really nice place to be stuck while doing it all..."

He burst out laughing and nodded. "Yeah, you've got a point, Bones. But I would much rather be at home... Working on a case or just dragging you kicking and screaming from the lab so you eat..."

"I do not kick and scream," she turned her dainty little nose up, looking to her right to avoid letting him see her grin. "But if you would rather," she whipped her head around, "I could kick and scream tonight on our way to the banquet." One side of her mouth curled, enjoying this relaxed version of 'them' and the ease with which she could play.

Leaning towards her just enough so he didn't fall out of his seat, he met her impish grin. "I dare you to, Bones."

Her smile faded, uncertain how to get out of the dare gracefully. She didn't want to seem unwilling to accept his challenge, but she had no real desire injure her partner by kicking him or make a scene by screaming. She mulled her options over in her mind.

Realizing there was a very good chance that she would actually step up and take his challenge, he back-pedaled, his imagination running wild with possibilities of what she might do if cornered.

"Ahh," he waved her off playfully, "I'm just teasin', Bones. I don't really want you kicking and screaming... But you do typically grumble when I come to take you for food."

She let a smile spread across her face, happy that he let her off the metaphorical hook. "I grumble because it always feels like you're abducting me when you swoosh into the lab and start pulling off my jacket just because you skipped breakfast and are certain you're starving to death..."

"I do not _swoosh_..."

B/B/B/B

The afternoon passed casually, Booth and Brennan were finally forced to socialize with others as their peaceful solitude on the terrace was interrupted by people wishing to catch a glimpse of the famous author, or agents wanting to hang out with Booth. At one point, Brennan turned to look at her partner, as he was caught up in a heavy debate about the Flyers being far better than some other team whose name she didn't recognize. She studied him, cataloging his happy smile and jovial demeanor as he and other men postured themselves. It was interesting to see... This form of posturing, she noted, differed from the typical alpha-male attributes he displayed on any given day to ward off would-be-pursuers who tried to gain her attention. (Yes, she knew _exactly_ what he was up to when he acted certain ways, but over the years, she had come to accept, and even appreciate, his possessiveness, though she would never admit as much).

Jogging her mind back to the present, observing him as he defended his favorite sports team, she smirked at his wild animation as he and others rehashed inane instances in sport. Her eyes traveled around the gathering of people, silently studying and analyzing, categorizing her partner's colleagues in the same way she would the various members of a foreign country's indigenous tribes. When Booth turned to her, catching her by surprise as she had been assessing his musculature structure as visible through the snug tank top he wore, her eyes snapped back up, meeting his smirk with an eye roll.

"Hey," he leaned forward, winking playfully. "Perotta is over there." He jerked his head sideways. "I'm gonna go talk to her while I can catch her without Robinson around. You wanna come?"

Her pale gaze shifted cautiously towards the blond, seeing her talking with another woman she didn't recognize. Thinking for only a moment, she shook her head. "No. That is probably something best discussed between you and her, as supervisor and subordinate." She looked back at his warm brown eyes. "I'll wait here."

"Ok. I shouldn't be long," he pushed up from his seat.

Glancing down at the small table between them, Brennan reached out and grabbed his t-shirt, which she had taken off in favor of wrapping her sarong around her torso over her suit. "Do you want to put this on?" She tried to make it sound like an innocent suggestion, but was pretty sure she failed miserably.

He looked down and tugged at his tank top, fanning it a bit as he pulled it out from his body. "Nah, I'm ok in this."

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't need it right now," she looked down at her brightly colored rayon wrap. "I'm pretty much covered with this. And the sun is low enough that I am not currently concerned about excess UV rays on my shoulders."

He could see through her pitiful ruse a mile away and reached out, accepting the offer. "Well, if you're sure you don't need it..." One corner of his mouth curled as he pulled his other shirt off, dropping it unceremoniously onto the table. He watched as her eyes involuntarily swept across his bare chest in the brief moment between pulling his tank top off and shrugging into the t-shirt version of his hockey jersey that she had been dutifully wearing for most of the day. "You sure you don't wanna come over with me?"

"I'm sure," she forced her eyes upwards again, wishing he had taken longer putting on the t-shirt. "I'll be fine."

Booth winked at her shy smile. He had no doubt she would be fine, he just wanted to make the offer for her to join him while he talked to Perotta. "Ok. I'll be back in a bit." Brennan watched him walk away, aiming towards his agent, and she allowed herself the pleasure of admiring the long length of his body and the play of his muscles as he moved.

Pulling her attention away, afraid of being too obvious in her gawking, she diverted her attention elsewhere. She scanned the rest of the patio, honing in on a group of conference attendees gathered in a loose circle to her right. They were discussing different movies and television shows, and speculating about the celebrities who starred as their favorite characters. Seeing her observing them, one of the women smiled and asked Brennan if she watched a particular show. When the anthropologist shook her head to the negative, she was met with a universally collective gasp, which was immediately followed by an onslaught of recommendations of entertainment that she 'simply must watch,' all of which she committed to memory with the intention of later discussing with Booth. Feeling somewhat awkward, not able to take part in most of the conversations surrounding her, she offered up something that she _had_ recently watched on TV, now that Booth had insisted on upgrading her cable plan.

"I recently watched a fascinating segment of _Forensics Studies." _She felt exhilarated at being able to share the information with the team of agents whose attention she had captured. "It's a documentary series, in case you're not familiar with the show." She smiled and swept her eyes around the group. "One episode described a case in which a murderer inserted hoses and funnels into his victim's orifices, filling the cadaver with flammable liquid prior to setting the body on fire. The temperature of the burning flesh and bone was so high and the damage so complete that the only thing identifiable as human was a fragmented superior orbital fissure. It was so badly deteriorated that the investigative team at the time was unable to pull even a trace amount of DNA. Twenty years later, the necessary technology was finally introduced into police work, allowing a cold case team to extract just enough material to identify the victim and later put her killer behind bars."

Brennan's pale eyes moved across each member of the group, looking for some sort of acknowledgment of her favorite cable television series. No one said anything, though. She was met with blank stares and slightly open mouths, all seemingly frozen in place. When her gaze reached the last person, she started back again, still finding no reaction. Finally she heard one voice speak up.

"You watch that kind of show for pleasure?" It was a woman from the local Virginia Beach Substation; she sounded shocked, and somewhat disgusted.

Feeling a wave of self-consciousness wash over her body, Brennan raised one shoulder and defended her preference of documentaries. "While the narration of the series is relatively remedial, I understand the stories must be told in such a way for the general public to be able to comprehend. Still, I find the show educational, and I enjoy learning, so, yes," she raised her nose stubbornly, "I watch that show for pleasure."

"Wow," a tall, lanky man she didn't recognize awed quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Not exactly my idea of Entertainment TV..."

Brennan felt her cheeks blaze in embarrassment at her apparent social faux pas, but there was no way of taking back her recap of the show she had watched. All she had really wanted to do was offer something of interest to the conversation, hoping to find common ground on which she could socialize with her partner's colleagues. When the awkward silence that hovered over the group was shattered by someone asking 'So, have you seen the latest episode of _Housewives_? Oh my God...', Brennan sat back against her lounge chair timidly, wishing now that she had joined her partner in his conversation with Perotta. When she looked his direction, toying with the notion of approaching them now, she wondered if it would be rude to interrupt since she hadn't been there from the start of their talk. She found herself so lost in thought that she nearly jumped out of her seat when a voice invaded her musings.

"Ha! You can take the boy outta the city, but you can't take the city outta the boy..." Marcus Gray sat down in Booth's abandoned seat as he followed the scientist's gaze to where Booth stood with Agent Payton Perotta.

"Excuse me?" Brennan's eyebrows creased in irritation to the interruption.

He looked at her and then back at Booth, jerking his chin in his friend's direction. "I'm talkin' 'bout Booth."

"I don't know what you mean." Brennan's pale eyes remained on her partner, unsure of how she felt about Marcus' presence.

Turning back to the anthropologist, he wondered if she was serious, but seeing no indication of humor on her expression, he realized she was not joking. "I mean some things never change. He was always drawn to the doe-eyed, curvy blondes... And y'know, things'll plug along at a frantic, happy pace until he screws somethin' up and she dumps his ass. Just like every one of the others... There are some things about a man that just never change, and for Booth, I think that's one thing."

She snapped her head around to face Marcus more squarely, her face pinched in anger. "You don't know Booth as well as you think you do, Marcus. You shouldn't make judgements about things before you have all the evidence."

"You've met his exes, haven't you? Are they not all blond? With great bodies, strong personalities?" He cocked his head, still trying to figure out the doctor at his side and her relationship with the well-known Agent Seeley Booth. Dragging his eyes across her crinkled brow, Marcus took the bold liberty of reaching out with the intention to smooth his thumb across the wrinkles, only to find his wrist in the firm grasp of the very woman he wanted to charm.

"I don't like being touched," Brennan told him point blank, pushing his hand back towards him. Feeling uncomfortable and still wondering what Booth had said to his former pseudo-partner the evening before, Brennan moved her eyes across his face in consideration. "Yes, I have met Booth's ex-girlfriends, Marcus, but you are wrong. They are not all curvy blondes. And while I still don't understand what that has to do with him growing up in Philadelphia, I do know that he is a much more complex man than you seem to think." She swung her legs off the lounge and gathered their shoes, shoving both pairs into their shared beach bag. "If you'll excuse me." She pushed up without waiting for a reply and squared her shoulders, walking pointedly towards the shaded corner where Booth and Perotta were still deep in conversation.

Marcus watched Brennan walk away, dumbfounded and unsure of exactly what had happened. He could still feel her firm grip on his wrist and he looked down, wondering how her cool fingers could have left such a burning sensation. He looked up when he felt someone approach the chair, and he found Genevieve Shaw, who he had met in the ocean earlier that day, looking down at him with a smirk.

"You shouldn't have tried to touch her." She shook her head and glanced up to where Brennan was, almost to Booth. "There's only one person who's allowed to do that..." She nodded her head in the direction of the partners, drawing Marcus' attention to them as well.

Booth seemed to have sensed Brennan's approach before she reached them because he turned his head and watched her grow nearer. He smiled and tilted his head, and when she stepped in beside him, greeting Perotta with a word that neither Shaw nor Marcus could hear, he placed his open palm on her lower back and continued his conversation, none the wiser to what had transpired between his partner and Marcus, and oblivious to the audience of two that they had.

"See?" Shaw looked back down at Marcus who was blindly rubbing his wrist as he watched the apparent comfort that Brennan seemed to gain from Booth's hand. "You're actually lucky it was just your wrist... I saw video of her taking down a Latin Gang Boss in the Hoover one day, and all he did was touch her arm.. She put him flat out on his back and stepped over him to get to the elevator... The video showed her and Agent Booth smile at each other before Agent Booth moved to help the gangbanger up."

Marcus looked up at Shaw in disbelief. "No way."

"Yep. It was before I started there... But the agents in the bullpen kept the video snippet just as a warning to the new hires that come in... You don't mess with Dr. Brennan... Rumor has it that the gang put a hit out on Brennan after that. And then, the next morning, Agent Booth disappeared for a while... He requisitioned a car, even though he has an SUV permanently assigned to him... And he went totally incommunicado when he was supposed to be on duty. That day, the hit was called off... Our guys in the field got word that Booth had a little one-on-one quality time with the gang leader." She glanced up and saw the three of them laughing at something. "Short story, you don't mess with Agent Booth either... Especially when Dr. Brennan is involved."

**Postscript A/N **

**I know, not much happened this chapter. Sorry about that… **

**We had my Mother-in-law's funerary service this past weekend. She passed away a couple months ago, but for various reasons we had to wait before we could spread her ashes the way she wanted. I have mixed emotions… I am relieved that everything is over, but at the same time, it all feels so final and sad. I suspect this feeling will ease and that, in time, the hurt will fade. In the meantime, I will continue chugging along like the Little Engine That Could…. **

**I look forward to your thoughts about the chapter, I appreciate all your support. **

**peace &amp; love, **

**~jazzy **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N Hello and welcome back!**

**Before we begin, let me say a GREAT BIG THANK YOU WITH TONS AND TONS OF HUGS for all the thoughtful messages and well-wishes for my family as we continue to deal with the loss of my mother-in-law. The outpouring of kindness was overwhelming and brought about tears more than once. Thank you all. **

**Some folks have been asking how long I expect my story to be… I can't give you an accurate number, because my story, as it is written now, is hundreds of pages in my Google Doc… We have moved through about one-hundred-fifty, or thereabouts, already… **

**And to answer another common question… you KNOW I can't tell you when B&amp;B are finally gonna *do it*! What if I'm really mean and I NEVER write them *doing it*? OMG would the JazzyMuse be that mean? *bites fingernails*... Bwahahahahaha**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I still don't own anything… That's not to say I don't have little daydreams about it every now and then... **

"Dammit!"

To say Booth was surprised when he heard his partner grumble the expletive would be an understatement. The connecting doors between their hotel rooms were still ajar, allowing open conversation while they each dressed for the Welcome Banquet.

"What's the matter, Bones?" He shrugged on his suit jacket, straightening his tie and tucking it tighter into the vest of his three-piece gray suit.

"My necklace clasp broke." She sounded distracted, like she was examining it as she spoke. "Actually it's the ring it clips into. It's gone..."

He smiled at the forlorn, lost-child quality she had to her voice. Checking that his hair was styled and gelled just right, he called out. "Lemme take a look at it, Bones." Turning away from the mirror towards the open door, intending to walk over there, he was met by her big, owley eyes staring up at him in worry. "Oh," he hadn't heard her enter his room, and since the doors had remained open since they checked in, her perfume had infiltrated his space so thoroughly that he was surrounded with her fragrance no matter where he turned, not that he complained. Accepting the outstretched chain, he realized it was the necklace that he and Parker had given her a few years back on her birthday when they had taken her on a picnic for a quiet celebration. Glancing up, he saw the little matching dolphins dangling from her ears. He smiled, happy she had chosen that set to wear, and he found himself distracted by the smoky shadow she wore around her pale eyes, making them pop even more than usual.

"I gave you this," he mused aloud, "well, Parker and I did..." He looked back down at the delicate chain resting in his open hand. "Sorry, Bones, I guess the quality isn't as good as I thought."

"No, it's a good chain." She defended his present as she, too, looked down at the jewelry, resting the tips of her fingers in the center of his wide palm beside the silver chain. She continued to talk, pointing to the culprit. "I had it on already, but then bent over for something and somehow caught it, pulling it from my neck. See? The little hoop where the clasp threads through is gone. I must have pulled it off completely." She raised her sorrow-filled eyes. "But I can't find it on the floor over there. I think I lost it."

Watching a torrent of emotion behind her eyes, Booth tilted his head. "It's ok, Bones. I'll get you a new one."

"But I wanted to wear it tonight." She pouted, knowing it was uncharacteristically childish, but reeling in regret at breaking the treasured piece of jewelry that her partner and his son had given to her.

He toyed with it for a minute, pulling at the end where the larger loop should have been. Seeing that he could still latch the lobster-claw-clasp through one of the smaller hoops, he smiled. "Here, you can still wear it, Bones." He moved to stand behind her, leaving her in place in front of the mirror where he had just been fussing with his hair.

Brennan watched as he looped the necklace around her throat, ensuring that the dolphin pendant was facing outward, and then moved his focus down to his hands where they worked at the base of her neck. She could just imagine what his must be seeing: her thin, dainty chain moving between his thick, strong fingers, and she stifled a shiver as she felt his breath on her neck. Ducking her chin, she made sure her hair was out of his way. The scientist studied her feet silently, her shoeless heels standing slightly between the toes of his shiny black patent leathers. When she felt his warm fingers smooth across her bare shoulders, she lifted her head and met his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. Her breath hitched at the feel of him standing so close behind as his hands rested lightly on her upper arms, just below the curve of her shoulder.

"Bones," he whispered hoarsely, only just then able to admire her, now that his attention to her necklace was finished. "You look...really pretty." His eyes skimmed down her body in the reflection across from them. It wasn't the most glamorous dress he'd ever seen her wear, but it was undoubtedly one of the most attractive. It was an emerald green dress with black trim. The spaghetti straps were thin and the bodice followed the curves of her body perfectly, leading down to where the skirt flared out slightly at her hips, falling softly just below her knees.

Brennan had chosen this dress specifically because Booth had complimented her more than once whenever she wore a blouse of the same color, and with a giddy flutter, she realized she made the right choice. Brennan watched him as his dark gaze swept down and back up, in what seemed like an appreciative admiration. When he locked sights with her again, they both smiled shyly, feeling the temperature in the room increase by several degrees.

"Thank you," she breathed, shivering again involuntarily.

"Cold?" His brow wrinkled in concern. "I can adjust the air conditioner."

"No," she answered honestly, getting lost in the feel of his hands running down her arms. The anthropologist swayed slightly as she let her eyelids fall closed, leaning back until she barely touched his chest. Turning her head to the side, she inhaled deeply, allowing a gentle sigh to escape upon her exhale. "You smell good," she hadn't meant to say it out loud, but there was no stopping it once her mind thought it; it was like her filter was incapacitated as her senses were assaulted with his scent and his carefully controlled power that she felt coursing through his body and into hers.

When he reached her hands, he took a moment and simply held her fingers between his, rubbing his jawline against her forehead where she had turned in towards him. "So do you, Bones," he breathed in and squeezed her hands, reminding himself that they had to hurry up if they were going to make it to the banquet downstairs, but warring with himself that a dinner is just a dinner... They could order room service... He could keep her there with him...they could just...

Reluctantly, he released her hands slowly, afraid of letting his fantasies get carried away. "We should probably finish getting ready, Bones." He spoke softly against her shoulder, not yet completely ready to let her go.

"Yes, I'll get my shoes and then I'll be all set," she responded just as quietly, forcing herself to move because she knew that if they didn't move soon, they wouldn't be moving at all... She stood straighter, pulling away from the stable support that was her partner's body and slowly moved towards her own room, feeling as though she was walking through a dream.

B/B/B/B

Booth and Brennan entered the banquet hall as part of a larger crowd arriving at once. Cordial nods and polite conversations quickly broke the group apart into smaller segments, allowing for more free-flowing conversations among counterparts of the same or similar levels. The partners moved towards the gathering of Hoover teammates, each eager to get the evening started, figuring the faster it began, the faster it would be over. While neither openly admitted it, they both desperately wanted to be alone again, hoping to explore in greater depth, the closeness they had experienced up in Booth's room. As they approached Shaw and Soto, the ladies smiled, welcoming the duo to join in their conversation. Shaw had always appreciated that even though, in the grand hierarchy of the field office, she (and now Soto, too) was among the lowest on the totem pole, Booth never made people feel inferior.

Almost immediately, the Senior Agent spied the bar a little ways from their table and he placed an open palm on Brennan's back. "I'm gonna get a drink. You want one?"

Looking over at the crowd surrounding the compact area, the scientist agreed to let Booth bring her a drink rather than fighting the crowd with him. "Yes, please."

Not bothering to ask what she wanted, Booth simply nodded and silently excused himself from the group, leaving Brennan to socialize with the people they knew.

"Dr. Brennan, your necklace is really pretty." Shaw smiled at she craned her neck slightly to admire the pair of jumping dolphins dangling from the silver chain, and noticed the matching earrings.

Subconsciously, Brennan raised her hand and traced her fingers around the pendant, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through her chest at the memory of Booth and Parker presenting her with the treasured gift for her birthday a few years prior.

She smiled at Shaw. "Thank you." The heat she felt invading her chest and torso spread up her neck, through her cheeks and crossed the bridge of her nose, where the crimson hue met to form a perfectly healthy glow. Glancing down, she admired the jewelry. "It was a gift," she continued quietly, by all outward appearances, being lost in thought.

Shaw grinned knowingly, remaining silent and allowing a private moment of reminisce for the woman of whom she was quickly growing fond. Noticing her boss returning towards their little huddle, Shaw leaned in a little towards Brennan. "Well, whoever chose it for you has excellent taste."

Brennan's pale blue-green eyes lifted to meet Shaw's but she was distracted by the attractive, distinctively imposing form of Booth closing in on their location. Instead of looking at the younger woman who had paid the compliment, she watched her partner's approach with a wistful smile, still thinking about the warm day at the park when Parker practically opened her present for her, he was so excited. Snapping out of her daydream as Booth was nearly in earshot, her eyes darted back to Shaw and her smile faltered slightly, as if she was embarrassed to have been caught in a daze. Glancing her fingers across the cool sterling silver sea creatures one last time, she dropped her hand and nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

By that time, Booth had rejoined the ladies, handing his partner a glass of house red wine as he held up a tumbler of scotch to toast her. He noticed the flushed color that had suddenly pinkened her creamy skin. "You ok, Bones?" His brow wrinkled in concern.

"What?" She momentarily considered pulling one of his trademark moves and 'playing dumb,' but realized he would see right through her ruse. "Oh, yes," she fanned herself unnecessarily. "I'm just warm."

He nodded, taking a sip of the rich Amber liquid. "Too much sun today, Bones. We'll have to make sure you have enough lotion on if we are out and about tomorrow."

"That's probably it. Yes. I will keep the shirt on if we go swimming tomorrow." Her pale eyes glanced at Shaw and Soto, both of whom were working hard to school their features. She looked away quickly, realizing they knew that her lapse of attention and dazed expression while discussing her jewelry had nothing whatsoever to do with the quantity of sun she had received earlier in the day.

The attendees milled around for less than twenty minutes before their emcee was calling for attention and asking them to take their seats for dinner. The meal was well received and the agents sharing the table with Booth and Brennan all managed to hide their mirroring smirks as Booth piled his broccoli and cauliflower high onto Brennan's dish and, in return, stole half of her potatoes. Once dinner was complete, a stream of speakers took turns filing onto the small stage and addressed the audience with anecdotes and stories, motivational quips and announcements. The final announcement of the evening was a recap of the results from the team building exercise.

"Ok, ladies and gents," the speaker smiled as the overhead screen lit up with a loop of photos that had been taken throughout the day. "I'm sure you're all anxious to learn the outcome from today's activity. Keep in mind that the scores earned today will be built upon throughout the week, as you participate in various other events and workshops. So basically, I'm saying it's still really early in the friendly competition and really, it's still anyone's game." He grinned as now-familiar voices called out to one another, making amicable challenges and mock insults. "Today's total possible score was thirty-five points. In third place," he motioned overhead as the photo of the third best sculpture was revealed, "out of the Dover office, we have Agents Smith and Parish with eighteen points," he paused for the encouraging applause from the winner's friends and colleagues as they cheered. "In second place," again, he paused until the photo of the winning team, taken as they worked, lit up the overhead screen. "Agents Wagner and McCarthy from Newark came in with a total score of twenty-four points." More clapping and congratulatory cries rang out across the crowd. "And in first place, with a very surprising, near-perfect score of thirty-three points," he didn't even wait for the photos this time, "Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan, from the DC field office." Wolf whistles and whoops made it nearly impossible for the speaker to continue, even though he was using a microphone, because a string of candid shots taken of Booth and Brennan flashed up across the screen, many of which showed the partners working on their sculpture or standing close in conversation. One in particular, obviously taken while the pair debated passionately about whether or not Brennan's gun should be carved in the sand, as she positioned her hand aiming it at her partner in a mock hold-up fashion, received an uproar of applause.

Brennan turned to Booth, her bright eyes and brilliant smile beaming at him as a giggle escaped her throat. "We did it, Booth! We won!" She patted his arm excitedly, with the exuberance of a child finally getting what she always wanted.

"Yep," he winked, knowing it was still early in the week, but not wanting to dampen her enjoyment. "Good job, Bones."

She leaned towards him, "I bet we would have gotten a full thirty-five points if you had added my gun, too!"

To that, he burst out laughing, not even wanting to get into it with her. He sat back in his chair and threw his arm over her backrest. "Well, Bones, I think thirty-three points is pretty damn great." He picked up his water glass and finished its contents, looking for the roving bartender, wanting another scotch. The organized portion of the night was obviously starting to wind down, and he wanted at least one more drink before they started packing the bar up.

As the crowd was officially dismissed from the planned part of the reception banquet, they were invited to enjoy a dessert buffet that had been set up across the back of the room and leave at their leisure. Surprisingly, pretty much everyone remained, opting instead to mingle and socialize while munching on the dessert items provided by the organizers. Booth and Brennan made their rounds, visiting with many of Booth's former Academy classmates and colleagues. Overall, they enjoyed the evening; Brennan became more comfortable interacting with the various agents, and Booth's overactive alpha defenses finally eased up as he observed his partner in action, witnessing no obvious threats to his unspoken position in Brennan's life.

B/B/B/B

When Brennan re-entered the banquet hall, after an absense of nearly fifteen minutes, her eyes automatically started skimming the room for Booth. Moving slowly through the milling crowd, she accepted congratulatory greetings and nods with polite grace and poise, still searching for the familiar profile and listening for the warm baritone timbre of her partner. Catching a glimpse of a form outside the glass doors at the rear of the room, she found the object of her near-constant distraction, standing alone on the patio with his back to the room.

He heard the door open behind him and turned to find his partner joining him on the patio. He grinned, "I was starting to worry that you must have fallen in," he chuckled at her eye roll.

"The ladies room in the lobby is conveniently out of order, and the one in the gym was closed for cleaning. I had to go up to our room." She sidled up beside him, not even processing the fact that she hadn't said 'her room,' but 'their room,' which gave Booth a little thrill to which he would never admit. Looking out over the beach and not seeing anything of interest, she turned back to Booth. "Why are you out here?"

The Agent shrugged. "I dunno, just wanted some space, I guess."

Misinterpreting what he was saying, Brennan's posture stiffened, wondering what she had done wrong. "Oh. Sorry," she started to back away. "I'll leave."

"No!" His hand darted out and stopped her from leaving, gently grabbing her forearm. "No, I don't mean it like that. Well," he cocked his head to the side, "not that I need space from you, that is... Because I don't. I just mean I wanted some fresh air and a little bit of distance from all the peacocks strutting around in there." He jerked his head back towards the banquet room. When he saw the confused expression cross his very literal scientist's face, as she looked low, searching for the aforementioned birds, he laughed. "Not real peacocks, Bones." He turned her body so she was standing beside him at the waist-high stone wall outlining the patio. "I mean all the bragging and explosive stories flying around in there. I just needed some air." He looked back out at the inky ocean. "And it's kinda nice out here. Just looking and listening."

She followed his gaze and studied the moonlit beach. "What do you look at?" She had lowered the volume of her voice, causing it to have the husky quality that always sent shivers down Booth's spine, though she had no idea the effect she had on him.

He wrinkled his brow and looked at her sideways. "Haven't you even just looked out at the ocean at night? Just sit and listen or watch the waves crash to shore?"

"Not really, no," her response was pointedly forward. "Typically, if I find myself near a beach, it's for work and I'm either excavating or sleeping because the excavation we did during the day was exhausting."

He looked down at her in shock and amazement. "Oh, Bones," he shook his head and looked back out across the sand, watching as the light breeze whipped up little whirlwinds of granules. "The things you're missing out on..."

Curious of his meaning, she moved her eyes from his strong, handsome profile and looked out as well, hoping to understand what it was she was apparently missing. Before she could get a firm grasp on anything, however, the doors behind them crashed open and their proximity to each other was divided as Marcus Gray stuck his head between them.

"Hey you two, we were wondering where you got to!" He grinned broadly at Booth and turned to look at Brennan, winking playfully.

"Who was wondering, Marcus?" Booth deadpanned but didn't look over at his former pseudo-partner, about whom his friendly feelings were quickly fading.

"Well, me mostly." He straightened up, squaring his shoulders, and somehow maneuvered himself between the partners, still smiling at Brennan. "See, I have some forensic questions I wondered if you wouldn't mind answering for me." Marcus had noticed how Brennan's demeanor changed drastically whenever she was asked to explain something, or help someone else learn something new, and he decided to play on her desire to teach in order to get closer to the elusive scientist.

"Oh." True to form, her skeptical glare became more open and forgiving of the interruption to her time with Booth.

Marcus watched as a gentle smile spread across her perfectly shaped lips and a perfect pink blush filled her cheeks. Extending his arm back towards the ballroom, he smiled back. "Would you mind?" He glanced over his shoulder at Booth's narrowed eyes, knowing full well at Booth recognized the tactic, but feeling empowered by the free-flowing alcohol that he had been enjoying throughout the evening. "You don't mind, right, Booth? I mean, you get to enjoy Dr. Brennan's company all the time... The rest of us are limited to benefit from her wealth of knowledge to just this week..." Without waiting for Booth to respond, Marcus fell into step beside Brennan as he reached forward and opened the immense glass door for her, inviting her to enter before him. As the door opened, Booth heard Brennan's disclaimer of "_you realize, don't you, that my area of expertise is focused on Forensic Anthropology, not just forensics_," to which, as the door slowly fell closed, Marcus simply replied, "_perfect, my questions are very anthropological in nature_..."

Turning back to face the dark water, Booth knocked back the last of his scotch, fighting against the inner-alpha wolf that was demanding he charge into the large, over-crowded room and throw Brennan over his shoulder while snarling at anyone who sniffed too close. He took great pleasure in the familiar burn as his beverage of choice coated his throat and spread warmth across his chest. Just as he readied to about-face and stroll as calmly as possible back into the crowd, he was approached from the side.

"Agent Booth?" The warm voice beckoning him matched the attractive smile of the woman approaching from behind.

Booth looked at the slightly younger woman, instantly measuring her against his partner and concluding that while the stranger was undoubtedly pretty, she didn't even remotely measure up to Brennan. "Yes?" He forced a smile, not wanting to appear antisocial, though he had no real inclination to getting involved in a long-winded conversation with the unknown agent.

"My name is Juliet Heath," she extended her hand politely. "I'm out of the Tampa field office. I didn't have a chance to meet you earlier on the beach."

"Tampa, huh? I guess you don't get a big thrill at being near the beach, hmm?" He grinned, nodding towards the few people who were scattered around, enjoying a breezy evening on the sand.

"Yeah, well, we are pretty fortunate down there." She allowed a smile to spread across her face, admiring the handsome features of the legendary agent. "I hope I'm not interrupting you." When she saw him shake his head while still watching the late-evening beach goers, she took advantage of his apparent open nature. "I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about some of the cases you and your partner have solved. We've used a few as case files for training, and when I heard you were going to be here, I was hoping to get some first hand reactions to the evidence and obstacles you faced?"

Sensing nothing but professional interest in Juliet's request, Booth turned back to her. He nodded once and held up his empty glass. "Sure, but let's go ahead in, I need a refill."

She followed him to the door and accepted his courtesy as he opened it for her to enter first. Once they reached the bar and ordered their drinks, Booth situated himself so his back was to the wall, allowing him the vantage point of surveying the room. Letting his sniper senses kick in, he spotted his partner immediately. She stood in a small gathering, a mixture of men and women, some of whom were wearing disgusted looks on their faces, and Booth was certain she was regaling them with some repulsive explanation pertaining to the human body and its process of decay once deceased and exposed to an array of environmental variables. He smirked as one woman abandoned the small plate containing the remainder of her dessert, yet still turned back to finish listening to whatever fascinating story His Bones was telling. He knew the looks on his colleagues faces well; it was often the same expressions he witnessed on the faces of local authorities or fellow agents who helped with various cases they worked. And he understood how entrancing the often-macabre topics of discussion could be, they were like train wrecks that one couldn't force themselves to turn away from...

Distracted from the humorous scene unfolding around his nerdy, but incredibly hot partner, Booth turned his attention back to the woman asking him questions. Occasionally raising his eyes, seeking contact with his partner, Booth smiled whenever he caught her doing the exact same thing. He patiently answered the queries of the younger agent, offering research tips and insight that he thought would be beneficial for her. When the woman's questions turned more personal, however, his defenses went on full alert.

"Agent Booth, as a decorated war veteran and highly skilled interrogator, can I ask you, how did you feel when the FBI forced you to work with someone like Dr. Brennan?"

He narrowed his eyes, studying Juliet carefully. "When you say, '_someone like Dr. Brennan_', what exactly do you mean?" He was hoping the woman just had trouble expressing her thoughts, and that she wasn't actually insulting his partner.

"Well, you know, she's not a skilled agent...she hasn't gone through the Academy...she seems, I don't know, unable to socialize on a normal level..." Juliet shrugged, uncertain if she was making sense to the Senior Agent, but feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "I mean, she tried to join in a conversation today out on the patio... It was painful to watch. She's so...awkward."

"What are you talking about?" His brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Oh, a bunch of us were all discussing our favorite TV shows and movies and she looked like she was interested in joining in the conversation. So, Carrie asked Dr. Brennan about her favorite shows and your partner launched into some gruesome dissertation about burning a body filled with flammable gas..." Juliet shook her head, still hardly believing that the documentary had been brought up amidst a conversation of _American Idol _and _Desperate Housewives_.

Booth chuckled, "_Forensic Studies_," he nodded, knowing exactly which of his partner's favorite episodes she had likely recounted. That is when he realized the interaction must have occurred when he had been talking to Perotta, and she joined them soon after their discussion began. He thought about the stiff posture she had when she approached and felt suddenly guilty for having left her alone. Raising his dark eyes to Juliet, he took a deep breath, ready to set the record straight.

"Listen, Juliet, the FBI did not _force_ me to partner with Bones. I sought her out for assistance on a case after I'd heard what a brilliant scientist she was. And she _is_ brilliant. She's a certifiable genius, and by far, the best partner I've ever had. I don't give a rats ass that she didn't graduate from Quantico. I can't imagine anyone more qualified to cover me when we're in the field." He swallowed the remainder of his drink with one gulp and nodded to the bartender for another, also ordering a glass of the house red. "I used to think cops like me solved murders, squints like her belonged in the lab." He shook his head to the negative, accepting the two drinks placed in front of him. "I'd never been more wrong in my life. And she proved it. Don't ever underestimate someone just because they didn't have the same training, or a similar background as you..." With that, he stood straight and nodded at Juliet. "If you'll excuse me, I think my socially _awkward_ partner, who seems to have assembled quite an attentive audience by the way, could use a drink." The sarcasm was unmistakable as he walked away from the woman, no longer interested in conversing with her, but now focused on seeing what kind of tales she was spinning that had the small gathering now doubling in size and stunned into silence.

**Postscript A/N**

**YAY! C'mon, now, did any of you really think I wasn't going to let B&amp;B win the sand sculpting contest?! That doesn't mean that they will win *every* team building exercise, but they had to kick it off right! Right? **

**I've been ridiculously busy lately, and I wanted to get this posted earlier in the week, but there was no way I was able to edit any faster. I hope that you enjoyed, and I appreciate your patience while I hack through the massive GoogleDoc that is my un-edited story! **

**Please review and let me know your thoughts, I appreciate it every single time that you take a moment to share your opinion. It's food for my muse (and she's a hungry *B*!) HAHAHAHAH **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N** **Hello and welcome back! Thank you all for your continued support and encouragement on our little journey through JazzyWorld. I really appreciate the reviews, favorites and follows. I've noticed some new folks favoriting some of my older fics, and I want to say THANK YOU for that as well! Even though those stories are done (I know… except for DPO…I plan to get back to that one eventually...) I still love hearing your thoughts and reactions. **

**Disclaimer: I still own nada… wish I did, but sometimes wishes just don't come true…. *sigh* **

"I told you we were going to win," Brennan smiled happily as they made their way down the hall towards their rooms. She was feeling the pleasant effects of the endless glasses of wine she had enjoyed all evening and leaned slightly against her partner. "Our sculpture was excellent, Booth."

Chuckling, the agent placed a steadying hand on her back, ushering her forward. "I know, Bones, you were _shamelessly_ confident. And completely unapologetic about your blatant immodesty." He laughed and stopped at his room, smiling when she remained close at his side rather than moving down another door to her own. "But don't forget," he swiped the keycard and pushed the door open, motioning for her to enter first, "just because we won today's challenge, doesn't mean that we are going to win overall."

"We will," she raised her nose in arrogant certainty, swaying a little, imbalanced by the alcohol pumping through her veins. "We are the best team here." She spun around abruptly, causing him to run into her when he turned from locking the deadbolt. "And _that _is a quantifiable statement," she leaned in slightly to whisper loudly, "because I have seen the competition."

They both chuckled at her analysis of the other attendees and Booth watched her turn away with a slight wobble. "You OK, there, Bones?" He placed his hands on her shoulders lightly until he was sure she was stable.

"Yes," she frowned down at her high heeled shoes. "I just need to get changed, I think." She felt the warmth of Booth's palms radiate through her body and her face flushed involuntarily.

"Yeah," he wasn't convinced. "OK, well kick off your shoes here, so I don't have to carry you back to your room after you fall and break a leg."

Secretly appreciative of his attention and perpetually doting nature for her, Brennan let the highly unlikely possibility of her suffering a fall bad enough to break a leg pass without comment or contradiction, accepting, instead, his outstretched hand and balanced herself enough to remove the offending shoes. "Thank you," she reluctantly released his hand once her shoes were kicked unceremoniously from her feet. Her big blue-green eyes met his, and she saw something she couldn't quite name staring back at her. Getting lost in his dark browns, she realized she didn't care if she couldn't put a name to his expression, but there was no doubt in her mind that she wanted to see it again...often... "Are you going straight to bed?"

Her inquiry sounded innocent, but Booth couldn't stop his mind from taking a quick dip into the gutter before he pulled himself back out. "Uh, probably not. I'm still kinda wired. I might just sit out on the balcony for a bit and listen to the ocean."

Brennan's chest filled with an uncharacteristic romanticism and she found herself struggling to maintain an even breathing pattern. "Do you..." She shrugged one shoulder. "Do you want company? Or is that something you prefer to do alone?"

Measuring his choice of words cautiously, Booth raised one corner of his mouth. "I welcome your company any time, Bones." He eyed her carefully, weighing out in his mind, the possibilities of spending a quiet day's-end together. "If you're up to coming out when you're doing changing, c'mon." He tilted his head towards the sliding doors that led out to the balcony that overlooked the pool patio and the Virginia Beach shoreline beyond.

She smiled, grateful that he was willing to spend more time with her. Brennan nodded, and moved to the open doors. "Alright." She simply slipped into her room and immediately went to the drawer that held her sleep-tights and the t-shirt she stole from her partner the night before. As she moved into her bathroom for a quick shower, wanting to clean off the salty remnants of their evening, she heard Booth moving through his room as well, closing his bathroom door. She let her mind wander, imagining what he looked like as he unbuttoned his crisp white oxford shirt, shucking it off his shoulders with a distinctive shrug. She thought about the breadth of his shoulders, his smooth, olive-pigmented skin, his tight, perfectly proportionate abs…

Giving her head a little shake, Brennan snapped herself out of her daydream and proceeded to mentally reprimand herself for getting carried away. Quickly stripping, she stepped into the stream of warm water, anxious to finish so she could rejoin the object of her near-constant distraction. When she exited the steamy bathroom, freshly dressed in her dark FBI shirt and black capri-length tights, she was quick to ditch her dirty clothes into the bag she designated for laundry and poked her head through the open door, ensuring that Booth was still up and hadn't changed his mind about company.

Booth could feel his partner walking through his room before he saw her. He was lounging in the mesh hammock that hung on his balcony, watching nothing more than the moon's reflection on the ocean's waves, hindered only occasionally as clouds blocked the white rays from view. When he felt her pause somewhere close behind him, he turned his head, still not quite able to see her, but knowing she was there.

"Hey," his voice was quiet, the peacefulness of the night dictating his tone. He extended his arm out from his body, silently beckoning her to step closer, and when she did, he smiled gently. Looking up at her from his prone perch, he admired the fresh appearance of her make-up-free face and her towel-dried hair, curling loosely over her shoulders. "You look more relaxed." He pulled himself up, dropping his legs on either side of the hammock, straddling it while he remained sitting.

Brennan nodded, also noting how much more comfortable her partner appeared now that he was no longer wearing the three-piece gray suit that she had always admired. "Yes, the quick shower was quite refreshing." She walked over to the balcony railing and looked out at the darkened beach, seeing a few late-night beach-goers still rambling along the length of the white sands. "It's very quiet, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Booth stood up, grabbing a little bottle of locally refined White Zinfandel for his partner and a bottle of Dewar's White Label Scotch Whisky for himself, he stepped beside her, bumping shoulders lightly. "My, uh" he handed her the wine, "minibar is limited in its offerings." A smile spread across her face as he toasted his partner. "But, hey, beggars can't be choosers." He took a swallow and winked as she did the same.

Surprised at the pleasant flavor, Brennan's eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. "This is actually really nice," she looked at Booth and offered him a sip. "Want a taste?"

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Nooo," he cocked an eyebrow. "Not mixed with this," he motioned to his own bottle and took another drink. "But thanks."

The partners grew silent as they stood side-by-side, simply enjoying each other's company and watching the ebb and flow of the waves lapping the edge of the sand. After several moments, Booth tilted his head. "You wanna sit?" He nodded to the extra wide hammock, figuring they could both fit somewhat comfortably if they sat together.

Following his gaze, Brennan burst out laughing. "No way," she chuckled. "I do _not _do well in hammocks." Shaking her head, she met her partner's dark eyes with laughter.

"What? Why? I thought you used hammocks on your digs." Booth grinned, waiting to hear the story that he was certain she would share.

"No, no," she took another drink. "Typically we use cots." She turned to face him fully, resting against the guardrail. "Except in Maluku… we actually did have cots in the temporary tents down by the dig site." She looked down, not able to hide her embarrassed smile before meeting his gaze again. "I had such a terrible time trying to stay in those hammocks, in the end, I just slept sitting up against the tent support beam."

"No way," Booth laughed, "with all your genius skills, your freaky-brilliant grasp of physics and your disturbingly high learning curve, you couldn't figure out how to lay in a hammock?"

"Nope," she shook her head. "Fell out every single time." She chuckled at the memory of Daisy's face when she came into the tent and startled Brennan just as she was almost getting settled in the swinging bed, causing the anthropologist to roll out completely, landing with a solid thump on the dirt floor beneath. "I'll bring out a chair. You," she pressed her forefinger against his chest, "can have the hammock."

"Naw, Bones," he set his bottle down on the little table, taking hers and placing it next to his. "C'mon, I'll show you."

"It's useless, Booth," she argued, but allowed herself to be tugged away from the edge of the balcony towards the brightly colored mesh material. "I'm just going to fall out…"

"No you won't. I won't let you," he flashed her a charm smile as he waggled his eyebrows playfully. Gripping her hand, he pulled her closer to the lounge and turned her to face away from him. "OK," he stepped over the drooping material, straddling it once more. "Step over," he held her hand and watched her legs. When they didn't move, he raised his eyes to her face, as she was glaring over her shoulder at him.

"Booth," she huffed, "I have no need to learn how to successfully utilize a hammock."

"Everybody needs to know, Bones. It's relaxing." He raised one side of his lips into a crooked grin. "Trust me."

Her entire body screamed in a rebellious warning that there was absolutely _nothing _relaxing about balancing your body weight in a suspended, unsupported swag of flimsy material, but the pleading look her partner was giving her was undeniable. "If I fall out…"

"You won't. I promise." He tugged gently, encouraging her to step over the lowest section. Once she had made the move, he released her hand and rested both palms loosely on her hips as she stood in front him. "OK. I'm gunna reach down and grab the edges and pull them out. As I do that, bend your knees and start to squat into a sitting position. I'll be sitting down behind you."

She nodded silently, looking down at the questionable material. "You're sure it will hold both of us?" Her voice sounded unconvinced at the strength of the knotted nylon structure.

"I wouldn't do this if I wasn't sure, Bones. Relax." He gripped the edges of the hammock, his fingers meeting in the middle before pulling outward. "The trick," he knew she was watching his movements, "is to make sure you're pulling the sides out evenly, so that you're sitting smack-dab in the middle once you're down." He started pulling and watched as she instinctively followed his lead and started sitting slowly. Once they were both settled in a seated position, Brennan sitting in the 'v' of Booth's parted thighs, he watched her shoulders relax. "There," he released the hammock for a moment and palmed her biceps. "That's half the battle. You shouldn't start out sitting on a hammock from the side; always straddle it, Bones."

Turning her head, she looked at him over her shoulder. "How did you know I started out sitting sideways?"

He grinned. "Most people who fall off do. The other people who fall typically don't balance themselves properly in the middle, and end up flipping over once they're laying down." He cocked his head to watch her, seeing the metaphorical hamster wheel turning as she processed his explanation. When she didn't retort with anything, he continued. "You ready to lay back?"

"Umm," she glanced sideways at him again. "Against you?"

"Yeah. I mean," he shrugged, "unless you're not comfortable."

"Oh, I'm fine. Let's do it." She faced forward, trying to school her expression to one of neutrality, completely opposite of how she really felt as her hormones and emotions started running rampant through her body.

"Ok." Her leaned forward slightly, putting a little pressure against her back so he could reach far enough in front of her torso, grabbing the hammock material in just the right location. "I'm gonna pull out here," he shook his hands once to get her attention, "and when I do. You can start to lean back while you pull your legs up, stretching them out in front. Just follow my lead."

She nodded and immediately started moving in tandem with his body as he stretched their lounger out beneath their bodies. Without permission, her hands grabbed his thighs, pulling them tighter around her body, cradling her safely as they started to sway mid air. Her body was tense, she wasn't yet certain the hammock wasn't going to flip over, spilling them onto the floor of his balcony.

Booth shifted his hips ever so slightly, allowing for the width of Brennan's hips to fit better between his parted legs. He could feel the nervous tension rolling off her in waves and he ran his hands along her bare arms. "Relax, Bones. It's all done." He moved his hands to her waist and hips, shimmying her until he thought she was better situated. "There," he stopped the movement, but left his hands where they were, cupping her sides protectively. Taking a deep breath, he felt her starting to relax, inhaling sharply as well and, as she exhaled, her shoulders and stiffened posture eased, allowing her weight to fall back against him completely.

After several quiet moments during which the partners just enjoyed the evening breeze and the sounds of the crashing waves of the Atlantic, Brennan let her head fall back against Booth's left shoulder. "This _is_ very nice," she said absently, her fingers tracing little circles and figure-eights along the outer edge of his lounge pants.

"You sound like you doubted me, Bones," he smiled as he continued looking out at the dancing moon light. He let his jaw come to rest at her temple and his hands, as if they had minds of their own, made mirroring movements along the hemline of her shirt, where it had risen dangerously close to bearing skin.

"Well... My own experiences have been questionable. I never quite mastered the art of hammock-lounging." She smiled when she felt a calloused fingertip barely touch her skin, just above the waistline of her tights before it pulled back in surprise. "It's not that I ever doubted _you..."_

"I'm just playin'. Even if you did doubt me, I wouldn't hold it against you."

Chuckling, she turned her head slightly, letting her forehead rub against his stubbly jawline. "Gee, thanks."

They sat like that for a little longer, with her head turned so she could press against his neck and her hands moving of their own volition against his legs without hesitation. He continued making random designs against her hips and waist, occasionally slipping beneath the shirt and touching a centimeter or two of skin.

"I couldn't get my necklace unlatched, Booth," she spoke quietly, just remembering that she was still wearing the jewelry that she had kept on during her shower.

"Ok. I'll get it for ya." He made no move to actually remove it. "When we get up."

She smiled and nodded gently, also content to simply stay there, snuggled between the two muscular legs that had so often carried her to safety.

"Y'know, every man down there tonight was wishing he was your partner," Booth spoke quietly, not wanting to break the spell that seemed to have been cast around them as they lay there together.

She thought briefly, wondering why Booth would say that. "Not every man," she answered truthfully.

"Mm-hmm," he nodded, shifting his arms a bit, holding her a little tighter.

She dared to let a ghost of a grin dance across her lips. "I disagree."

"Mickey doesn't count," Booth laughed, thinking about the camaraderie that she seemed to have formed with his former Army pal at one point during the evening.

"I meant you, Booth. You don't have to wish because you already _are_ my partner." She shifted her head against his shoulder until she could look up at him.

"Oh," he smirked at her literalness. "Yeah, well, that's true." He eyed her carefully and grew serious, the effects of the alcohol in his system helping to lower his inhibitions and his ever-present filter. "Well, every man down there was wishing he was _more_ than your partner."

Her breath caught in her throat but she couldn't look away, his eyes had locked onto hers and she felt hypnotized, unable to force herself to break that contact. "What..." She swallowed thickly. "Why would you say that?"

His lips curled into a knowing smile. "Because its true, Bones." His gaze faltered, flicking down to her lips and back up to her eyes, as he'd been finding himself doing more and more often over the past few months, and especially over the past two weeks. Nudging her gently with the shrug of one shoulder, he tilted his head to the side. "You looked really pretty tonight. And you developed quite the fan club down there with your tales of the gory and macabre." He laughed as he felt the tension in her body break.

"They weren't macabre stories. They were simply narratives of the places I've been and some of the things I've seen. Sometimes truth is more horrific than fiction..." She let her head fall back against his shoulder again.

"Right," his arms looped around her waist completely, his hands coming to rest on her taut abdomen as he chuckled. "And all the little embellishments and detailed accounts about methods used by the ancient Egyptians to de-brain a corpse, and the multitude of ways the Whobulubu Tribe uses to disembowel their enemies... That was all just icing on the cake, huh?"

She laughed, realizing that he was right - she _had_, in fact, taken great joy in providing to her audience accurate and graphic details about various medical procedures adopted around the world throughout the centuries. The shocked and stunned expressions on many of the conference attendees' faces as they listened to her drabbles had caused little bursts of excitement to erupt in her abdomen. "OK, first, there is no such tribe called the Whobulubu's..." She chuckled at his constant need to make up names. "And second, so maybe I exaggerated a _few_ of the historical facts for the purpose of spinning an interesting tale," she glanced sideways, "but I didn't lie. Everything I said was based on truth."

"Mm-hmm, just like your books." He waited for her to take the bait.

"Exactly!" She smiled, glad he recognized her storytelling was all based on fact, not fantasy.

"I mean, you do a _ton_ of research for your books. I don't think there is anything that you write about that isn't firmly planted in truth, right?"

"Right." She turned her head, letting her forehead rub against the side of his neck.

"Good to know, Bones." He readied himself. "So the next time we go to one of your book signings and someone asks me if I'm the real Andy Lister, I'm gonna tell them yes."

"Wait!" She started to sit up, but found herself in a tight hold, unable to move. "That's not what I meant, Booth. And you know it!" She started to whine a little, in her nerdy, squinty way that he adored. "The characters are not real."

"Oh hell yeah, they are." He let his head fall back against the hammock, staring up at the ceiling of his balcony with a smug smile he didn't even try to hide. "It ok, I won't autograph anything, don't worry."

"You are incorrigible," she folded her arms across her chest, unable to stop the pout from forming on her lips. "My characters are works of fiction..."

"Whatever ya gotta tell yourself, Bones." He egged her on a little, enjoying the little rise he was getting out of her. "I know the truth... But fear not, your secret is safe with me..."

"If anything, I only base Andy's _arrogance_ on my familiarity of yours!"

"Hey, I'll take it." His smug smile faded quickly as she wiggled her hips, seemingly to try to get more comfortable, and he pulled her into him a little tighter. "Stop wiggling... You're gonna tip us over." In truth he needed her to stop wiggling because, like a dumbass, when he changed out of his suit, he had decided to go commando beneath his lounge pants, and if she kept moving, she'd soon feel the evidence of the effect she had on him…

Falling into a comfortable silence, the partners took turns stroking fingers against the thin material of sleep clothes and bare skin whenever possible. Their hands danced and skimmed, occasionally pausing to intertwine with each other and squeeze, and while neither spoke the words, they both knew that nothing else in the world felt more natural than cozying up together in a gently-swaying hammock. Out of the blue, Brennan broke the quiet spell that had fallen over them, asking a question before making a confession that brought a feeling of content over Booth.

"You really liked my dress tonight, Booth?"

He smiled against her temple, where his lips had unsurprisingly found a comfortable resting spot. "Yeah. You looked really nice, Bones… Most beautiful woman down there…"

She grinned at his admittance. "I chose it hoping that you would like it…" She lowered her eyes, but didn't pull away despite the eruption of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. "Just like the bathing suit… I knew you liked the color, so," she shrugged a little, "I told the woman in the boutique to find me something in a similar color."

He was pleasantly surprised at the forethought his partner put into her choice of clothing for the trip. He had traveled with her plenty of times in the past, and he had often watched her pack in record time, claiming that she packed merely what she needed, not wanting to lug along unnecessary articles of clothing or belongings. She typically included sensible pieces that could double as day or evening wear, with the exception of the few times they had formals or undercover stories for which to plan. The idea that she had actually instructed the saleswoman to provide options of a certain shade made him realize that she had come further than he initially realized - she was adjusting her habits to meet some of his preferences and Booth realized that the ball was very likely in his court at that point.

"It looked amazing, Bones. It made your eyes, just...pop. And your skin," he ran an open palm up her arm from her wrist to her bicep and back down. "It was perfect." He sighed, wrapping her hand in his. "_You_ were perfect…"

She hummed in response, enjoying the closeness, the intimacy she was experiencing with Booth. It was something she had never felt with anyone else in her past. "This _is_ nice," her tone was breathy, barely audible above the sounds of the breeze and ocean waves, but they reached Booth's ears loud and clear.

"Mmm," he nuzzled without permission against the skin just below her ear. "I concur," he echoed the phrase she so often voiced, "vehemently." His hands splayed possessively across her tummy, flexing against the soft flesh hidden beneath her (his!) shirt. Unable to stop himself, and finally unwilling to deny his instincts, he dropped soft kisses against her sweet skin, feeling himself growing more and more aroused as he listened to the tiny mews that were escaping her throat.

Her hands drifted around his outer thighs, pulling his legs into a tighter cradle against her body, wishing they were further advanced in this budding relationship, wanting to feel him - _all of him_ \- crowding her deliciously, the way she had always imagined, with his barely-contained power ready to snap and his thick, rippling muscles moving beneath her hands as she touched him - everywhere.

Realizing just how close he was to pushing up from the hammock and carrying Brennan into his bed, Booth pulled back, his nose sliding against her hairline smoothly as he inhaled her scent. The agent could feel her pulse racing, and knew she was just as affected as he was by their proximity and gentle caresses. Dragging his hands down to hers, where they gripped his legs firmly, he wove his fingers between hers.

"Whaddya wanna do tomorrow, Bones?"

"Sleep," she only half-joked. Her body was succumbing to the exhaustion caused by the excitement of the competition and their day spent in the sun. Of course, the excessive wine and champagne she'd had throughout the evening was flowing nicely through her veins and certainly contributed to her lazy desires. She tugged their joined hands up until his arms circled her waist and all twenty fingers were clinging to one another resting on her abdomen. "Let's wait and see what happens tomorrow, hmm?"

"Yeah, sounds like a plan, Bones." His head rested against hers. His own admittedly-tired smile was uncontrollable as he heard the quiet sigh she breathed into the night. He rubbed his thumb along the soft skin beneath his touch and felt himself drifting just as he noticed Brennan's weight against him grow heavier. Knowing he should push them to move back inside, encourage her to go to sleep, the little voice in the back of his mind warned him that she would go back to her own bed, not yet to his, and he was loathe to let her go just yet. So, he followed her into a light slumber, the gentle movement of the hammock rocking them both into a state of intimate comfort as they clung to each other possessively.

**Postscript A/N - ahhh….. to fall asleep, nestled safely between two Boothy thighs on a hammock while listening to the ocean…. isn't that something we all would enjoy!? LOL! **

**I would love to hear from you all! Please take a moment and share your thoughts with me as I have done here, for you. Reviews are food for my JazzyMuse soul. **

**peace &amp; love, my friends**

**~jazzy**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N Welcome back! Thanks ever so much for your continued support, I really appreciate it! And thank you to all the new folks that seem to have found my stuff… I am not sure how you're finding me, but I appreciate hearing from so many new "guests" and seeing new Favorites and Follows. That is a real pick-me-up when I'm feeling down.**

**Disclaimer….. Do I need to keep doing these? We all know I don't own Bones because if I did, we wouldn't be in a hiatus, Booth would never have lied about gambling, there would be more cuddles and snuggles on the show, oh, and yeah, we'd be on cable so there could be SEX. **

Booth opened one eye after a loud clap of thunder disturbed his slumber. Peeling open his other, he glanced down at Brennan, where she was still nestled against him. Somehow, she had managed to turn over, so she was pressed against his chest, her arms trapped between their bodies. He vaguely remembered dropping one foot down to the floor as she shifted, though he never completely woke at the movement more than just enough to stabilize their swaying support before he tucked his leg back up and around her sleeping body, keeping her safe. He couldn't deny how comfortable it was to wake up with his arms circling her body and in the back of his mind, he thought back to conversations he had been unwillfully roped into with Sully, when his former colleague, and Brennan's former lover, complained about his partner's indifferent distance in bed. Sully had complained that she never wanted him to touch her after sex, and that she typically would turn away once they were done, falling asleep with her back to him. Tim had said whenever he would reach out to her in the night, even in her sleep, she would shun away from physical contact, later telling him that she didn't like to feel smothered. And yet, here she was, turned towards Booth, fisting his t-shirt tightly in her grip without argument as she slept. _Hell_, he reminded himself, _in Atlantic City she claimed to never snuggle as she initiated contact all through the night_. Granted, there wasn't much room for her to go anywhere else in the netted hammock, but if she was awake enough to turn over, logic told Booth she was awake enough to've gotten up and taken herself to bed if she didn't want to be close.

A flash of lightning filling the sky with bright, white light grabbed Booth's attention as he counted. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand, four-... The booming thunder told the ex-Army Ranger that the storm was no more than a mile away. He knew he needed to move them back inside, just to play it safe since storms near the ocean could become violent very quickly. He relished the experience just a few minutes more... The feeling of her body against his, the smell of her hair, the soft puffs of breath that were ghosting his neck as she slept. He dropped one foot back down to the floor and ran an open palm along her back, soothing her awake gently as he rubbed his cheek against the top of her head.

"Bones?" He turned his face and craned his neck, trying to see her face where it was buried against his pec. "Bones, wakey, wakey..." He started to move them gently, his foot pushing against the solid surface just enough to swing them a little. Holding her firmly, afraid she might jerk awake and hurt herself (or him!) he spoke louder. "Bones, it's gunna rain. We need to go inside."

"Hmm?" Her mumbled reply resonated through her chest and into his, sending delicious shivers through his whole body. "Wha-?" She tried to bury her face again, tightening her grip on his shirt and pulling it against her cheek in an attempt to block out uninvited interruptions.

He chuckled, squeezing her carefully and pressing his lips against the top of her head. "C'mon, Bones. You can go back to sleep, but we gotta move." He dropped his other foot, stopping the swinging motion altogether.

"Nmmm..." She simply grumbled into the softness of his shirt, wiping her face on the material.

"Hey," he decided try a different tactic, "don't wipe your nose on my shirt. That's gross, Bones."

She raised her head slowly, glaring at him from beneath a furrowed brow and a mass of sleep-rumpled auburn hair.

Booth cocked an eyebrow playfully, "I don't even let Parker wipe his nose on me anymore... He stopped doing that when he was little..."

"Not funny," she growled in disapproval of being woken. Just as she was about to refute his accusation, a bright light flashed from somewhere behind her, followed very closely by a clap of thunder loud enough to startle her speechless. Her eyes grew wide and she turned her head just in time to see the heavy sky open up, dropping large raindrops through the air.

"C'mon," he started to shift, his feet on the floor giving him the balance to start to sit up. He held her carefully, knowing she could easily turn and throw herself out of the hammock without meaning to. "Sit up, Bones. We need to move inside."

Shaking herself out of her disoriented stupor, she allowed her partner to manhandle her until she could drop her feet to the floor. The scientist stood up on wine-induced-sleepy-legs and stood still until she felt Booth's hand on her waist, guiding her through the open sliding glass doors.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she muttered apologetically. "I'm sorry..." Brennan felt her uncertainty fade as she looked at her best friend, realizing that he wasn't bothered by their cozy, albeit brief, snooze.

"No worries, I didn't mean to fall asleep, either," he cocked his head sideways, admiring her disheveled appearance, wishing he could see it every morning. "It's still really early," he glanced at his watch, popping open the latch to finally remove it. "I'm gunna try to get some more sleep."

She nodded, glancing at the very inviting king size bed behind her partner. She realized, however, that she needed to go back to her own room. She had no place in his bed..._Not yet._ It wasn't like they were in Atlantic City, where she was trying to save him from his own self-destructive nature. And it wasn't like it had just been, out there on the porch where they accidentally dozed off, their inability to control their respectful wakefulness most likely affected by the heavy doses of alcohol they had both ingested. Flicking her eyes back to his deep-set, soulful brown orbs, she nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Yes. We have time to get more sleep." She swallowed thickly. "And hopefully ward off the impending headache..." Her hand found its way to her temple almost subconsciously. "Uhhg," she groaned, regretting her beverage choices the previous evening.

"Here," he moved past her, entered the bathroom and returned a split second later, carrying a bottle of aspirin. "I think I'm gonna need a couple as well." He poured two into his palm and handed the bottle to her as he then reached for a fresh bottle of water from the bar.

Grateful, Brennan knocked back the pills, washing them down with the room temperature water. "Thanks," she placed the medicine on the bar and recapped the water, lining it up next to the pills neatly.

Booth wanted to invite her to slip between his sheets and allow him to hold her again. He wanted to simply reach out and take her soft fingers in his, wishing he was free to tug her along until she acquiesced to curl up alongside him. But he knew better. He didn't think she was ready for the conscious decision that would be required in such a step. So, he watched her, as a storm flashed behind her eyes, echoing the quickly escalating thunderstorm outside their room.

"What time do we need to be downstairs?" She cocked her head sideways, not immediately able to recall Sunday's schedule.

"Not until 10:00." he stifled a yawn. "I vote for sleeping as late as possible."

Brennan smiled and nodded in agreement. "I concur," she grinned as she started to turn away. "Good night…" she stalled for a moment, "well…. Good morning…." Glancing over her shoulder she met his humored expression. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah. Get some sleep, Bones." He nodded and watched her walk away. "Oh hey, wait," he closed the distance between them quickly.

"Yes?" She spun around, not really understanding why she felt so happy that he might be stopping her from going back to her room.

"Here," he palmed her shoulders and turned her to face away from him again. "I forgot." He lifted the waves of silky hair from her neck, and as he did, he felt her recognition of what he was doing. Reaching just inside the collar of her shirt, his thick fingers fished out the dainty silver chain until he found the latch. "Sorry your necklace broke tonight, Bones." He focused on navigating the tiny lobster-claw hook out through the even tinier loop. Once it was successfully unfastened, he stretched both arms out in front of her, grabbing both ends into one hand. "I'll get you a new one."

"No, Booth," she reached for the jewelry, but knew he wouldn't relent. "I can replace it."

"Nope. Told you earlier, I will." Booth quickly fisted the chain and forced himself to step back, lest he lean forward and press his lips to the inviting pale pink flesh of her neck.

Brennan turned and looked up at her partner, feeling an overwhelming sense of affection flood her entire body. She smiled. "Good night, Booth."

"Night, Bones. See ya in a few hours." He watched his partner walk away, again, wishing they were further along in their aspiring personal relationship…. Not necessarily so he could go Neanderthal on her, (though when the time came, he was sure he would do his fair share of cave-man grunts), but just enough so that she would stay...share a bed with him...press her soft, curvy body up along his so they could slip into a warm slumber together. With a deep sigh, he turned and flopped down on the bed, face first into his pillow. With a groan, he shuffled haphazardly beneath the covers and huffed in masculine frustration, talking himself back from the metaphorical ledge as he imagined his partner sliding into her bed, so close and yet so far.

B/B/B/B

Brennan was eased from sleep by the appetizing aroma of food. Peering out from beneath mostly-closed eyelids, she surveyed her immediate surroundings through the harsh light of day. She loved having an ocean-facing room, but being on the East Coast, that also meant her room was on the receiving end of the currently-unwelcome sunrise. She groaned and rolled away from the window, wishing she had thought far enough in advance during the wee hours of morning as she was crawling into bed to have closed her drapes. As she pushed her face into her pillow and pulled the sheet up over her head, her senses were once again assaulted with the swirling scent of warm blueberries and coffee.

Shifting just enough to peek out from beneath the soft cover, she couldn't see anything that would indicate the source of her aromatic alarm clock. Moving her eyes to the open adjoining door, she heard movement in Booth's room. The scientist shoved the sheet away, forcing her reluctant, sleepy body to move against it's defiant groans, but she wanted to know what he was doing. Padding across the room in her moccasin covered feet, she squinted against the light and poked her head into her partner's room. The scents grew stronger, and when she looked to her right, she saw Booth sitting at the little round table working on a crossword puzzle, presumably from the daily newspaper they had been promised would be at their doors each morning.

"Hey, Bones," he smiled when he felt her presence and turned his head, taking in her appearance with admiration. "You're finally awake!" He flopped back in his seat, happy to see his partner so unguarded. His eyes travelled down her body, noting how her t-shirt (_his shirt!_) was twisted in a way that would drive him crazy if he were wearing it, though it was a telltale sign that she had been tossing in her sleep. Her highlighted tresses were messy, sticking up in all directions, and the crease on her forehead told him she was not impressed with his perky morning greeting.

Ignoring his statement of the obvious, Brennan swiveled her eyes to the table and studied the items filling the space. "What is all that?" She pointed to it, still grumpy but intrigued by the fact that there were silver domes reflecting light back at her, but more importantly, there was a coffee carafe, two empty plates and coffee mugs.

Grinning at her morning grunts, he looked at the table as well. "It's breakfast, Bones. It's about time you woke up... I'm starving. Been waitin' for you." He held up his mug, smiling and winking simultaneously. "But I did start on the coffee already." Taking another sip, he hid his amusement at her current state of disposition. For a long time, Booth has assumed Brennan would be a morning-person. On some of their early cases, when they had to share a room or living space, she always seemed to be up earlier than him, always going out for a run or heading to the gym before he even became aware that there was a world outside of his closed eyelids. But as they grew more accustomed to each other and became closer friends, occasionally crashing at one another's apartment after a long night of drinking or a movie marathon, most of which were driven by Booth's determination to educate Brennan with a healthy dose of popular culture, the agent began to suspect that those early mornings were due to her own discomfort of being forced into a quite-literal 'tight spot' while not knowing him very well. More and more often, he now caught little glimpses of Grumpy-Bones in the morning after a particularly restless night, or Moody-and-Emotionally-Irritable-Bones just about a week before what he quickly surmised was her 'time of the month.'

That morning, he was definitely graced with Grumpy-Bones.

"C'mon," he reached for her mug and started pouring coffee. "Sit down."

The temptation to flop into the seat opposite her partner was overwhelming. But she needed to use the bathroom first, and so she nodded before turning away. "I'll be right back."

Booth knew where she was headed, and that she wouldn't be long, based on the distracted look in her eyes when she watched the rich black coffee pour into her cup. He proceeded to fix her first dose of morning caffeine to her preferred specifications before refilling his own cup. By the time she returned, he was just testing his own, and she gratefully lifted the thick rimmed hotel cup to her lips and swallowed the perfectly sweetened beverage.

"Oh, mmm…. I needed that..." She let her eyes roll back slightly as they closed and she savored that first, perfectly temperate mouthful. When her pale blues re-opened and met Booth's much darker gaze, she smiled. "Thanks, Booth."

"Anytime, Bones," he watched her, feeling himself falling harder in love with his partner by each passing moment. Lying in bed during those dark, early hours after watching her retreat, sleep had eluded him. He laid between the cool sheets, listening to the heavy raindrops outside and thinking about how empty his arms felt once she was no longer wrapped in them, and the agent decided he was done lying to himself about his true feelings. For as long as he could remember over the course of his career with Brennan, he'd been trying to talk himself _out _of loving her, working to convince himself, and everyone around him, that he was simply protective because she was his partner, she was his responsibility... While reflecting back on his poorly handled post-coma 'atta-girl' quantification, and his frantic and desperate plea on the steps of the Hoover, for her to take a chance on 'them', Booth realized he had never been completely truthful with himself about his feelings, let alone with Brennan.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and pushing the newspaper out of his way. "Did you sleep okay, Bones?" He studied her eyes, noting the tired lines that were threatening to mar her perfect features.

Taking another large swallow of her coffee, Brennan placed her cup down and shrugged. "I think I woke up a few times. I don't feel rested." She answered honestly, not remembering any nightmares in particular, but knowing that her slumber must have been interrupted by more than just the move from the balcony to her room. If she had slept well once in bed, the scientist knew she would have felt better after a few solid hours of sleep.

Booth nodded in sympathy. He completely understood the un-rested feel… He suspected he would have felt far better if he'd been able to spoon up behind her, instead of watching her walk away. "Well," he tilted his head, "maybe some of this will help you feel better." His charm smile made an appearance as he gestured to the spread on the table.

"What is all this?" She lifted the short, silver-plated cloche nearest to her, inhaling the wafting scent of blueberries as the steam rose. "Oh, Booth," she smiled and looked up at him. "This looks delicious."

"Yeah, well," he lifted the other two domes, revealing scrambled eggs and shredded hash brown potatoes to compliment the fresh blueberry pancakes he had ordered just for her. "I figured if we had room service rather than going down to the dining room, we could relax a little longer this morning."

Grinning in appreciation of his forethought, she nodded, distractedly pulling two pancakes from the stack onto her plate. "It looks really good." Pouring the warmed syrup, she raised an eyebrow in question. "I don't remember seeing blueberry pancakes on the room service menu. I can't believe I missed it… They're my favorite."

"I know they are, Bones," he stifled a grin as he scooped potatoes onto his own plate. "You didn't miss them… They're not on the menu."

Her eyes snapped up at him. "I don't understand..."

"I called down there and requested it. Typically they only offer flavored syrups, but I asked them if they wouldn't mind taking the bowl of fresh blueberries that I was gunna order and using them to make some fruity pancakes instead, they agreed." The gentle curve of her lips was all the reward he needed, and he was determined to do whatever it took to see that look cast his way again. "I figured you'd enjoy them better than plain old buttermilk cakes with blueberry syrup…"

"Thank you, Booth." The warmth spreading through her chest, to which she was becoming more and more accustomed to feeling whenever Booth's eyes caught hers with _that look_, started flowing freely, quickly expanding beyond her torso and settling deep in her limbs. "This is much nicer than sitting in the dining room," she chuckled, glancing down at her attire, as she was still dressed in her sleep shirt and tights.

"Eat up, Bones." He jerked his chin at her food. "Don't want it to get any colder."

They ate in comfortable companionship, finishing the crossword puzzle together, discussing plans to archive some of their oldest case files and finally settling on the topic of Parker.

"I texted him the picture I took of you last night," Booth smiled, having pushed the now-empty place settings aside, he was pouring the last of the coffee into her cup. "He wrote back almost immediately. He recognized the necklace you were wearing. He was all excited that you still like it."

Brennan's smile grew. "I love it. I guess he just hasn't seen me wear it." She stirred sugar into her drink. "I will make a conscious effort to wear it when I see him next time." She took a sip, "well, after I get it fixed, that is."

He nodded and flinched a little when a loud thunderclap echoed outside. The agent's attention shifted to the grey skies outside. "This morning's news said that we were in for several bands of weather today." He pushed up and walked over to the sliding glass door. "So, I guess whatever we end up doing, we should plan to be inside." He felt her join him, the heat from her body connecting with his as she stepped close, like an electric arc connecting them through the air.

"I'm sure we will find something to entertain us, Booth." She responded as she, too, stared out at the overcast day, marveling at how the weather could shift so quickly. Last night they were chased inside by a storm, less than an hour before, she was moaning at the bright sunlight disturbing her sleep before she was ready, and now the heavy skies were beack, threatening to open up, promising to douse anyone who ventured outside in large, plopping raindrops. After several silent moments, Brennan turned to face Booth. "What time did you wake up?"

He huffed, a rueful laugh of sorts. "I never went back to sleep."

"What?" Her expression was alarmed. "Why? Were you feeling ill?"

He looked down at his feet, deciding how to answer. "Nah, I wasn't sick." He met her gaze with a new intensity, determined to be open and honest and tell her that he wished she had been in his arms all night... "I was…"

An alarm sounded behind them, interrupting Booth's plan and startling his partner. Brennan whipped her head around, trying to find the source of annoyance. "Booth?" She watched as he left their place by the windows and stalked across his room.

"Yeah, uhh," he grabbed his watch and stopped the noise. "That's our twenty-five minute warning." He turned and looked back at her, sad that they didn't really have more time. "Our meeting downstairs starts in thirty minutes. We need to head down soon."

"Oh," she looked down at herself and then back up, meeting his gaze with alarmed eyes. "I need to take a shower," she placed her coffee mug on the table. "Can we…" She tilted her head. "Can we continue our conversation later? I am sincerely concerned that you didn't sleep, Booth."

"Go ahead, Bones," he jerked his head towards her room and smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine." He saw her slight hesitation. "Trust me, ok? I'm fine." He shooed her away gently, nudging her on her way. "I'll take care of stacking the dishes an' all out into the hall." As she disappeared through the open doors, he felt his shoulders slump, damning himself for not speaking up sooner, or finding a way to work the topic he had wanted to discuss into the conversation quicker. _But,_ he told himself, _maybe this wasn't the time… maybe she's not ready yet._

After only about fifteen minutes, Booth heard his partner's approach as he was sitting in the chair on his balcony, reading the last of the sports page. When he turned to see her standing just inside his room, looking out at the beach from the open slider, he was stunned into a dumbfounded silence. She was wearing a fitted pale pink, square-necked shirt with capped sleeves and dark capri pants - the kind that hugged her legs tightly, like a second layer of skin. When he looked at her, he was unexpectedly transported back in time to Saturday mornings at Pops' and Grams' house.

After Pops had taken in him and Jared, their daily routines were altered to fit the lifestyle of the older couple. Granted, the boys were still extremely active in school and extracurricular activities, but things changed nevertheless. One of the most significant changes that Booth could recall feeling impacted by was their Saturday morning television options. When they lived with their Dad, Booth and Jared could most often be found watching cartoons on the little black and white television set in their family basement. Their father was usually hung over on Saturdays, following a late Friday night bender that typically resulted in one of the boys (most often Seeley) being on the receiving end of their father's near-constant state of anger. So, in order to avoid him for as long as possible on Saturday mornings, the two young boys would hole-up down in the basement with the battered old television set and rabbit-ear-antennas, watching cartoons without volume as they whispered to each other, filling in the story lines with their own imaginations.

When their Grandfather rescued them, the young Booth-boys fell into a Saturday routine that was more inline with their elderly family members. Grams would have none of that 'violent' _Road Runner and Coyote_ nonsense, as she called it, or that _Tom and Jerry "_tomfoolery" that the boys liked to watch. She put a stop to that right away, wanting to limit the violence that the boys were exposed to while they healed emotionally from the real-life violence that had dominated their young lives. Instead, if they were not outside playing with the neighborhood kids, or participating in a sports practice or game, they would watch whatever their Grandmother deemed appropriate. Most often they were entertained with (and secretly enjoyed) repeats of _The Andy Griffith Show_, _Lassie _and _The Dick Van Dyke Show_.

It was that last comedy half-hour that young Seeley most enjoyed. _The Dick Van Dyke Show_ was Booth's first introduction to having a celebrity crush. He could remember the first time he saw Mary Tyler Moore come onto the screen, in her little capri pants and form fitted sweaters, her bright happy smile and her quick, loopy-wit. He was hooked. He didn't understand it at the time, he knew what it meant to find someone attractive or to enjoy the humor of a family television show, but there was something different about the character of Laura Petrie that intrigued him and he simply couldn't get enough of Laura Petrie. When he grew up, he learned that she had been a pioneer of her generation, wearing pants and capris on TV at a time when housewives were supposed to be represented by dressing to the nines in their ever-present floral-patterned dresses and high-heels; the look that Hollywood forced upon the public as 'standard-housewife-appearance'. But he didn't know any of that when he was a twelve-year-old kid watching a black and white television show with his Grams and Jared. He just knew he liked how she looked and how she acted and how she sounded.

And now, with Brennan standing there in the open doorway leading out to where he sat waiting for her, in her dark bottoms and light top, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and only a touch of make-up, he fell into a timewarp and he was right back with his beloved grandmother watching _The Dick Van Dyke Show_.

After surveying the grey, overcast sky and the almost barren beach, Brennan turned to look at her partner. Expecting him to be still reading the newspaper, she was a little surprised to see him looking at her instead. She raised her eyebrows. "Are you ready?"

Her question snapped him out of his reminiscent daze and he jumped to his feet, uncertain of exactly how long he had been staring at her. "Yep!" Crumpling his newspaper in a poorly executed attempt to fold it, he finally gave up and shoved it into the recycle can. "Let's go see what kinda hell they have set up for us today…"

Smirking at his lack of enthusiasm, Brennan followed her partner through his room, admiring the way his casual polo shirt hugged his shoulders and moved across the strong expanse of his back. "Would you carry my key, Booth?" As she was asking, her eyes traveled down to his Gluteus Maximus and she could barely suppress a smile as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"Yeah, sure, Bones," he turned abruptly to take her key and slip it with his, into his billfold. What he didn't expect was to catch his partner ogling his backside. He couldn't help but chuckle when her shocked eyes turned up to his as she realized she had been caught, only to instantly dart away. He watched as, with a slight upward tilt of her nose, his partner had the nerve to look disinterested, despite the pretty pink flush that filled her cheeks. "You, ahh, ok?"

"Yes, of course," her voice was indignant, "why wouldn't I be?" She thrust her keycard at him and stalked past, ignoring the arrogant smirk threatening to break free across Booth's face. "Come on, Booth. We're going to be late if you don't hurry up…"

"Yeah," he huffed as he let his own eyes travel the length of her body moving in front of his, not even trying to hide his appreciation for her choice of curve-hugging attire. "Wouldn't want that, would we…."

**Postscript A/N **

**I know not very much happened in this chapter, but sometimes we just need to move things along and we need to spend a little time getting some insight into our many characters' inner thoughts. I hope you don't mind terribly. As I said before, sometimes I just need to go with the JazzyMuse and as I'm editing my original piece, I'm finding a lot of inconsistencies, so I'm having to turn her loose a little bit here and there. LOL **

**Please review, I love to hear your thoughts and I treasure your encouragement. **

**peace &amp; love, my friends. **

**~jazzy**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N Welcome back! Been crazy busy lately, sorry for the delay in posting. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Not that I want to spoil anything, but I think it's important that I remind those of you who are sensitive to emotional roller coasters, to have faith in me and the JazzyMuse… Even if B&amp;B run into little roadblocks as they navigate their journey through ups and downs that happen along the way, I love B&amp;B together… **

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing… nada, zip, zilch, yada-yada… Just my story and my characters, but none of the ones we all really love and adore… **

As the partners entered the large reception hall, they mingled immediately with many of the acquaintances with whom they'd enjoyed socializing the previous evening. Everyone seemed in good spirits, despite the rainy weather, anxious to get their team building exercise out of the way so they could enjoy a day of freedom. Quickly finding their way over to the table where most of the Hoover staff was gathered, Booth and Brennan claimed the remaining two seats and joined the conversations volleying around the table.

Before long, Andrew Simmons was standing back up in front of the relatively large group, calling order to the milling attendees. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," he waited patiently, happy to see the smiles and overall relaxed attitudes settling down. "Good morning," he nodded at a few of the folks he'd had the opportunity to meet at the dinner the night before. "We hope that everyone enjoyed the Welcome Gala last evening. I am sure everyone is looking forward to a day of free time, so without further ado, I'd like to introduce you to the facilitator of today's activity. I know some of you will already know him and his impressive resume, but for those of you who don't, you are in for a treat." He grinned, glancing across the sea of faces staring back at him. "By the young age of twenty-two, our guest had already completed his undergraduate degree at the University of Toronto. He also has a Masters degree in Abnormal Psychology from Temple University, and two doctorates in Clinical Psychology and Behavioral Analysis from Columbia University and the University of Pennsylvania, respectively."

At hearing the list of qualifications that Simmons was rattling off, Brennan and Booth whipped their heads around to meet each other's panicked eyes. Just as Simmons continued introducing the guest, they mouthed a few expletives and sighed heavily.

"Please welcome the DC's very own resident FBI Psychologist, Dr. Lance Sweets." He swept his arm to the left and motioned for the young doctor to join him on stage.

The crowd applauded politely and the partners exchanged wary looks with everyone seated at their table, each and every agent present very familiar with, and often opposed to, Sweets' repertoire of Team Building exercises.

"Booth!" Brennan whispered harshly, "you didn't tell me he was doing today's workshop! I would have called in sick if I knew he was here!"

"I didn't know, Bones," he hissed in response. "Besides, you can't call in sick, you're not allowed."

Brennan could tell that her partner wasn't happy about the start of their day either, and she flopped back into her seat, folding her arms across her chest and glaring up at the stage. She felt Booth scoot his chair closer, and he folded his arms in a similar fashion to hers as he tossed his right ankle up to his left knee, bobbing his foot in irritation. She turned and looked at him, seeing the hard edge of his clenching jaw flexing as he bit down and released repeatedly. Leaning closer, she spoke quietly. "Well, maybe he is going to make us do something that you and I have already done, I can't imagine he has very many other exercises that he hasn't subjected us to already..."

Exhaling sharply, Booth simply shook his head twice. "Don't count on it..." He tilted his head towards her, "he enjoys making us sweat, he will undoubtedly hit us with something new." He moved his eyes back up to the stage where the twelve-year-old shrink was babbling on and on about how honored he was to be part of the convention, and the wonderful opportunity it was for him to be able to meet so many esteemed agents.

Pulling back, she looked at her partner with big, worried blue eyes. It was hard enough on the scientist to do the team building experiments within the private confines of their doctor's office... Doing them in a public setting was something entirely different, and she felt a wave of anxiety rushing her body, threatening to cause her previously-enjoyed breakfast to regurgitate. She hadn't seen Sweets since the two weeks previous, when the metaphorical shit had hit the fan, sending her into hibernation for the weekend and ultimately resulting in Booth's very-near-relapse back into gambling. They had nearly fallen apart after their last session with the so-called 'genius doctor,' and she was not keen to revisit any of those feelings again... Completely ignoring everything that he was saying up on stage, she unfolded her arms and moved her hands to her lap beneath the table edge, where her fingers twisted and fidgeted nervously.

Booth was pissed that they didn't have any forewarning that Sweets would be there, and he cursed himself that he hadn't had the foresight to expect him there for activities other than his lecture session. All he could think about was the last time he and his partner sat with Sweets, everything went to hell and he almost lost her for good. The agent was determined to do everything in his power to not let that happen again, even if it meant getting physical with the kid who always claimed to want to help them. Swiveling his eyes towards Brennan, Booth saw her concern as clearly as he felt his own. He studied her for a moment from the corner of his eye. He noted how, for a woman who had worked so hard for most of her life to hide her emotions and keep other people at no less than an arm's length away, she definitely wore her heart on her sleeve when it came to interactions like this. He reached over, unwilling to let her stew in her own anxiety, thinking that she was the only one. His wide, warm hand covered hers beneath the table's edge, warming her chilled fingers immediately.

Brennan's cool eyes darted up to him and she saw his concern for her. She held his gaze for a moment, not making a move to withdraw her hands from his, not really caring whether or not people around them saw the act of affection he was showing towards her. She tilted her head ever so slightly and sighed. "Do we have to participate?" Her whisper was strangled, proof that she was near panic.

"It'll be alright, Bones. I'll be right here with you," he leaned towards her and spoke directly into her ear, not wanting anyone around them to hear his promise; his words were for her, and no one else. "Whatever he has planned, we'll be fine, you know that. We've come too far, and we are _way too close_ to let him fuck it up."

When he leaned back and looked at her, he saw a million questions flashing behind her eyes, but he also saw her acceptance of his assurance. Giving her fingers a final squeeze, he retracted his hand, immediately missing the contact, but knowing this was neither the time nor the place. He needed to just get them through whatever Sweets had planned, and then, later that day, he hoped to be able to get his partner alone for a real heart-to-heart talk. Redirecting his attention back up at Boy-Wonder, he tried to focus on the prepubescent voice that was carrying across the room, courtesy of the mic that was pinned to his blue and red striped tie.

"This morning's activity will be easier for some than for others, but I promise that everyone will benefit from it. It is more about building _trust _than building a team. You will break out into your partnership pairings and you will each share with each other, something that you have never shared before. Now, for those of you who are newly partnered, it probably won't be anything that affected your partner, but you should focus on telling your counterpart something that you are not entirely sure that you ever wanted someone else to know. It can be from your professional career or from your personal life." The young doctor took a small sip of water from his bottle and continued. "Now, as you share this information, I want you to think about how it is making you feel to share the piece of information, and I would like you to write your feelings down on the notebook at your seat. For those of you listening to the confession, please think about how the revelation makes you feel towards the person telling you - does it seem like something that would affect your partnership if you had never known? Do you think it changes your opinion whatsoever about the person you're paired with? Write those feelings down on your notepad. Once you have both shared and listened, you may discuss with one another your feelings and concerns." Sweets took another tiny sip of water and then continued. "Now, for those of you who _have _been partnered together for a while, I want you to share something that you have purposely kept from your partner during your time together. It could be an event that occurred, or an annoying trait that you've been overlooking, an action or talent that you've admired, or something along those lines. And you will each do the same as the newly-partnered agents - you will record your feelings or emotions on the notepads that have been placed at your seats, and then discuss your results." Sweets intentionally avoided looking at the Hoover table, because he had, over his tenure at the bureau, subjected almost all of those present to this type of trust exercise. "Once everyone has had a chance to debrief with one another, we will reconvene as a group and I would be interested to hear how you have all reacted to the new stories or revelations that were uncovered during your discussions. We don't need specific details the confessions, that is strictly for you and your partner, but we are interested in the overall impressions you were left with as a final result of this activity." He rubbed his hands together absently. "I know that the coordinators have put together a contest of sorts for the team building events for the week. For this exercise, you will earn points for participating, _and _for anyone who wishes to contribute to the group discussion at the end, additional points will be awarded."

Once the murmuring in the room died back down, Sweets nodded and glanced around. "Ok, if anyone runs into any roadblocks while you're working on this activity, don't be afraid to ask. I am here to help and we also have Dr. William Moore, a doctor of psychology from the Jacksonville office. We will be circulating the room, so don't hesitate to flag one of us down." He glanced down at his watch. "Let's aim to be through with the activity in the next, say, thirty minutes. Then we will all come back together to debrief."

As Sweets stepped away from the podium, the audience dispersed, some dragging their chairs away from the tables in hopes of attaining some privacy, while others were content to simply conduct their session right where they sat. Booth moved his eyes to Brennan, saw the way she was chewing her bottom lip and knew she was uncomfortable with the exercise.

"Hey, Bones, why don't we move over there, huh?" He nodded his head in the direction of an unoccupied corner. When she just nodded in agreement, he knew she was shutting down. She hated trust exercises more than he did, and he understood why... He just wanted to help her get through it so they could enjoy the rest of their day. Once they were seated, face to face with nothing but their knees between them, Booth tilted his head. "You wanna go first, or you want me to?"

"I don't want to do this at all." She fixed her mulish expression on her face and clenched her jaw.

"I know you don't. Neither do I. But we need to do it. Then we're done for the day. This is the only thing on the schedule."

"Booth. We don't need this kind of exercise. We work through our differences on our own because we _already trust each other_." Her pale eyes pleaded with him to understand. "I don't need to hear your confessions any more than you need to hear mine..." She leaned forward, resting her arms on her legs. "Look at how we broke through the metaphoric barriers in Atlantic City! We didn't need anyone to facilitate what needed to be said or how to say it... We handled the situation ourselves."

Resisting his innate desire to reach out and touch her in comfort, Booth leaned forward as well, mirroring her position by resting his elbows on his knees. He was consciously careful to keep the distance between their faces professional. "Bones, I don't wanna have our partnership split up."

"But-"

"_But nothing_. Sweets is running this God-forsaken activity. You think he won't notice if we basically just flip him the bird and walk away? You think he won't report back to the Suits that we were uncooperative?" He hated laying it all out like this, knowing how much she was struggling, but he needed to say it. "Whatever happens here," he motioned to the room around them, "it doesn't matter in our real lives, Bones. This is all just a show. This is you and me telling them what they wanna hear, and letting them see what we _want _them to see." He finally gave in to his need and stretched just his fingers out far enough to touch hers across the distance separating their hands. "Let's play their games, Bones. Then we can go home."

She contemplated his words and pinched her lips together, inhaling deeply. "Well," she shrugged, "since you're used to going to confession for your superstitious rituals, I think you should go first."

He chuckled. "_Religious_, not superstitious, Bones… But yeah, ok. They're not exactly the same kinda confessions, but I don't mind." He sighed and thought for a few minutes, reaching into his pocket to pull out his poker chip as he considered all his options. He thought about the personal confessions he could make - the way he felt about her; the fact that she filled his thoughts every morning, and every night, and countless times in between...the endless ways over the years that he'd tried to pre-plan his days when they didn't have cases so he could still pick her up in the mornings and drop her off in the afternoons…the fact that he was in love with her... But he knew, deep down, that the truth his partner deserved to hear was admittedly years late in the telling.

"OK... " He sighed, hoping for the best, but expecting his ever-independent partner to hand him his ass in a sling by the time he was done. "You remember the Maria Duarte case?"

"Yes, of course." She tilted her head in thought, wondering what he was going to tell her.

"Well, you know how I was a little late for the funeral?"

Brennan's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "A _little _late? Booth you missed the service altogether. You showed up as we were leaving. And if I remember correctly you didn't have an excuse..." She flashed him a look of disapproval and shook her head. "The only reason I didn't continue to ask for an explanation was because Angela told me that I should give you the benefit of the doubt that whatever you had to do was, in fact, more important than the funeral." She folded her arms, not giving him a chance to respond. "Of course, given your superstitions, I am surprised that you would choose some other, mysterious activity when you were supposed to be at the cemetery saying a final farewell to the deceased..."

"Well," he swallowed, wanting to stop her rant, "if you would let me talk, Bones, that's what I'm trying to tell you." He pinned her with a stern look, daring her to interrupt him again.

"Oh," she dropped her arms and folded her hands on her lap, atop her notebook. "Sorry."

He let a smile peek out, "it's ok." Shifting in his seat, he tried to put together his explanation in as concise a manner as possible. "Yeah, so anyway, you remember Ortez? The Mara Muerte gang leader that you decided to drop in the hallway near the elevators at the office?"

She nodded, wondering what her partner was going to tell her, wondering if the man had filed a grievance against her that she didn't know about. "He hit on me...and he was extremely condescending… I was within my rights to defend myself…"

He looked to the ceiling and organized his thoughts, waiting for her to stop rambling. When she finally realized she had interrupted him again and stopped talking, he looked back at her. "The afternoon before the funeral, I got a message from the street-level informants... That asshole put a hit out on you, Bones." He watched as the familiar upside-down 'V' formed between her eyebrows, and he knew it meant she didn't fully grasp the meaning behind the threat. "The gang task force sent word to me that Ortez put an offer out on the street, to his gang as well as any other his neighboring enemies looking to get into his good graces... He wanted you delivered to him... He didn't care how you came to be in his possession, as long as you were alive." Booth paused as his partner's posture stiffened where she sat. "He wanted to 'teach you a lesson' for being disrespectful... He wanted to show you how a '_Little Woman_' should act in his presence... And I promise, Bones, it wouldn't have been a pretty lesson..."

"Booth, I don't understand. Why are you telling me this now? Nothing has ever happened to me. Besides, I can take care of myself. I am proficient in three forms of martial-"

"Your fancy martial arts wouldn't've done you a shit of good, Bones...not on a contract like this. He was offering a nice reward... You coulda been jumped by multiple gang bangers at any moment... They could have followed you...broken into your apartment...taken you from the grocery store... Anything, Bones. And it would have been fast and, most likely, disturbingly efficient."

"Booth," she was getting nervous about his story. "What aren't you telling me?"

"That next morning, the day after the hit was offered, was the funeral. I had you tailed by four undercover agents from the time you left your apartment until the time I met up with you… I threatened them all that if they lost you, their careers were over. Period." He swallowed thickly, wishing now that he had just admitted to his attraction to her. "That morning I requisitioned a car, I didn't want to use my truck... I drove down into the Little El Salvador barrio and waited... I knew where Ortez tended to hang out, my street contacts kept me well-informed. I'd hoped he would have been earlier, so I could make it back to the funeral in time to be there for you...but he was running a little later than I planned and when he finally came sauntering down the street, I knew it was just about the same time the funeral was starting..." He fiddled with his poker chip, weaving it in between his fingers expertly. "I waited for him to turn down an alley and I followed... When I caught up with him," he shook his head, "the guy didn't hear me until it was too late, I was already on top of him... I pushed him into an alcove and shoved my gun into his mouth."

She shot to her feet, not believing the recklessness that he was revealing. "Booth! You could have been killed!" She didn't care about the escalating volume in her voice, nor did she pay any attention to the heads that swiveled in their direction suddenly. "What would've happened then, huh? What would have happened to me? How could I ever tell Parker what happened to you if you had died trying to go after a gang leader in your own!? With no back-up!"

Booth remained calm and reached out, taking her hand and pulling her back down into her seat. "Bones. Sit." Once she was seated across from him I once again, her face pinched in a combination of anger and fright, he continued. "I told Ortez it wasn't between him and the law... It was personal - between him and me. If anything happened to you, he was as good as dead. No one would know...no one would see... I'd make sure of it if he didn't call off the fuckin' hit." Booth cocked his head to the side. "I think that when the tip of my barrel ripped a gash in the roof of his mouth, he realized I wasn't shitting him..."

Brennan couldn't move, she couldn't respond. She just sat there, looking at him in stunned silence. She couldn't decide if she was angrier at his actions or at the fact that he'd _hidden_ those actions. But no doubt about it, _she was angry_. She was down right pissed.

"Bones," he could see the ire building behind her eyes, the storm was about to hit, and it was going to be far worse inside that room than it was outside in the falling rain... "Listen..."

"No." She pushed to her feet and pointed her wiry index finger into his chest as she bent over, going nose to nose with him. "You had no right!" She growled between clenched teeth. "How _dare_ you risk your life for mine?! How dare you think I wouldn't have been able to deal with that asshole on my own!" She jerked her hand away when he tried to reach for it. "And how _dare _you _lie _to me about it."

"I never lied, Bones," he raised his own hand in defense. "I just didn't tell the whole truth. There's a big difference."

"No there isn't!" She flopped back down into her seat and folded her arms while she glared at him. "It was a lie by omission, and you know it." She huffed hard from her nose and then fisted her hands on her lap, punching her own thigh as she continued. "I _asked_ you what you were doing... Why you weren't at the funeral... I flat out asked you, Booth! And you _lied_!"

"No." He wanted to reach out, but he didn't dare, he could tell he had a lot of work to do before he would be allowed to touch her again, and he reprimanded himself for his foolishness in admitting this to her. Especially in that setting... "Bones, I told you that something came up."

"And I asked you if it was more important than the funeral!"

"Right. And I was one-hundred percent honest when I said I thought so. And I'll say it again, Bones, it _was_ more important than the funeral. Your life, your safety is far more important than anything else. I won't apologize for it."

"Why didn't you just tell me!?" She lunged forward in her seat, but didn't stand.

"Because," he leaned forward as well, meeting her halfway, as always, as he steeled himself for the truth. "Because I knew you would react like this. I knew you would get all high an' mighty and lecture me about how you can take care of yourself and how you don't need me." He cocked his head when she had the nerve to look indignant. "Because guess what, _sweetheart_? Like it or not, there are times you _do_ need me. There are times when you can't handle things on your own. End of discussion." He hadn't meant to get so sarcastic with her, but she infuriated him so much that the sweetheart moniker just eked out. "You can't handle everyone on your own, Temperance. You aren't fucking Wonder Woman."

"You self-righteous, egotistical, arrogant sonofa-"

"Yeah, that's right," he interrupted her. "I _am_ an arrogant sonofabitch. But I don't care, because I made sure my partner, my best friend, was gunna get home safe that night... And live long enough to get to work safe the next day. I didn't have to worry about some asshole sitting outside your place casing your apartment and reporting back to Ortez or his men... I didn't have to think about some junkie in need of a big reward to get his next fix following you to learn your routine. And it wouldn't have taken them long to learn your routine, Bones. You're pretty fuckin' predictable."

She raised her nose and glanced around the room, avoiding his eye contact and ignoring everyone else's blatant stares. As she mulled over what he had said, she reluctantly realized he was right... She never would have known if someone was watching her apartment building, or following her through the streets as she drove to work... Or even if she was being tailed as she took her morning jog through the park. Hell, she didn't even know that her own partner had assigned four agents to watch her that day... As she rolled her lips between her teeth, she thought about all the times Booth had kept her safe and never once did he actually do it in a way that was demeaning or condescending... He never told her that she was incapable of anything... So, as logic stood, it was reasonable that he honestly believed that her life was in danger. And, being a man of action who was better with his gun than with his words, he did what came naturally, and what he knew would send a crystal clear message to Ortez.

"Bones," his voice pleaded, "you gotta believe me. I didn't mean to hurt you." He finally reached forward and knuckled her chin in his direction, forcing her to look at him. When he saw a single, tiny tear clinging to her lower lashes, he reached up and caught it before it could fall. "I just wanted to keep you safe. If I had knowingly ignored the warning and something happened to you," he swallowed and shook his head. "I don't know what I would've done... But I can promise that I would not longer be employed by the government..."

Believing him, she sighed and looked down at where her hands were folded tightly on her lap. "I just wish you had told me."

"Bones, I didn't want you to get upset... That's why I kept it from you. I didn't tell you then because we were still fairly new partners. And," he shrugged, "well, I didn't see a point of telling you once we became closer... It just felt like something that didn't need to be said..." He dropped his eyes to where she was twisting her own fingers. "Until now, anyway... This is something that I've been carrying with me... Something that could have affected our working relationship... And," he lifted his gaze once again, finding hers immediately, "if we are going to move forward, you know," his voice dropped in volume as well as pitch, "with _us_, we need to be open and honest... No secrets, Bones. Not like that..."

Booth's disclaimer hit Brennan like a sledgehammer crashing into her chest. She, too, had been carrying a secret for years... Something she knew would upset Booth, but she'd kept from him in order to move past the whole ordeal. And in that moment, she realized just how her choice of omission was actually worse when compared to Booth's decision to make it his personal duty to defend her life as far back as their early cases.

She took a deep breath, not wanting to admit metaphorical defeat, but knowing that he did what he thought was best at the time. "We are supposed to write down our feelings now..." She picked up her notepad from where it fell on the floor. "We need to do the exercise, right?"

Watching her carefully, Booth was put on guard with her sudden acquiescence to the activity and her acceptance of his explanation. Over the years, he had learned to be wary of Brennan's rapid mood swings, and the one on display for him at the moment put all his 'Spidey-senses' on alert.

"Yeah. We need to do that." He focused partially on writing his thoughts and partially on her posture as she contemplated and wrote in her own book. After a few minutes, with his notes complete, he closed the cover of the book and watched as she continued to scribble, filling two pages with her emotions before she looked up.

Brennan hesitated a moment and took a deep breath. "Do we... Do we discuss our feelings now, or wait until after I tell you my story?"

Tilting his head to the side, he considered the possible repercussions of pouring out their emotions now, before she confessed, or waiting and doing it all at once. It didn't take long for him to decide that it would likely be easier to let her talk and then they could air all the dirty laundry out in one fell swoop.

"Tell me your story first. Then we'll smooth things over all at the end." He squared his shoulders and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The agent had absolutely zero idea of what she might want to tell him, but sensed an undeniably ominous mood settle over them.

Brennan took a shaky breath and nodded, almost afraid of what she had to confess. She knew, however, that if she didn't get it out now, there was a high probability that she never would take the opportunity to do it again.

"You remember Pam Nunan?" It was a stupid question, she told herself, of course he would remember her and when he cocked his eyebrow, she knew he was mentally saying the same thing.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Right. Well, you see..." She swallowed and felt her stomach churn. "There's something about that time that I never told you."

Booth nodded. He expected her to finally fess up to sleeping at his apartment when she thought he was dead. When he was finally allowed to return home from the rehab center where he'd been recovering, he knew immediately that she had been there. Her perfume surrounded him when he walked into his bedroom, and the bed wasn't made the way he'd made it before going to work on the morning he was shot... But after seeing how much anguish she had gone through during those two weeks, he didn't have the nerve to call her out on her actions, and he didn't figure it mattered anyway... He told himself that if he was told his partner was dead, he would have probably let himself into her apartment as well and slept in her bed, just to feel closer to her that one last time. So, he waited for her confession patiently, watching her eyes flick back and forth across the room before coming back to him.

With one last glance across the distance towards Sweets, as he spoke with agents she didn't know, Brennan silently reminded herself that Booth had a right to know. He should have been told long ago... Now she was going to re-open a metaphorical wound, and she wasn't sure how she would fix it once it was gaping wide. With her voice barely above a whisper, she leaned forward, telling him the secret she had hidden away for years.

"He was experimenting on us..." She was afraid to meet Booth's eyes, so she stared at the center of his chest, imagining that if she had the power, she would be boring a hole straight into his heart.

Booth didn't know what she was talking about and assumed he misheard what she said. "What?" He leaned forward as well, wanting her to raise those bottomless eyes, but she didn't. "Bones, what did you say? What experiment?"

"Chewing on her bottom lip, she shivered as she stifled her own worried whimper. "Well, it was probably aimed more on _me_ than on _us_... But it was an experiment all the same." She finally raised just her eyes, keeping her head bowed so she had to look at him from beneath her brows, and she braced herself for the anger that would surely erupt from her partner at any moment.

"Ok, Bones." He shook his head, as if to clear the cobwebs, certain he was misunderstanding her. "I need you to start over... I'm missing something here. Dumb it down for me."

Fighting the tears that were pricking at the backs of her eyes, she lifted her head the rest of the way, locking his gaze firmly, determined to get through this. "Dr. Sweets... He lied when he said that the reason he didn't tell me you were still alive was because he knew I could cope... In truth, he didn't tell me because he wanted to see how I would react, and if," she licked her lips nervously, watching as realization dawned in Booth's deep-set dark eyes. "He wanted to see if I would admit to having feelings for you... And if I would show signs of regret at not telling you before you died..." Dropping her chin again, she muttered. "We were an experiment for him..."

"That fucking, no-good, interfering bastard-" he pushed up from his seat, spinning on his heel and scanning the room for the perpetrator of this sick test.

"Booth, wait," she placed her hand on his forearm and turned him back to face her, trying unsuccessfully to pull him back down to his seat. "I already told him off..."

"Telling him off isn't good enough, Bones." He pinned her with hard, unforgiving eyes. "He hurt you, let you torture yourself for weeks. And then he stood by, listening with a smug expression while you blamed _me_ for not telling you. All I was doing was following my goddamn orders and he used that against us! Against me and against you." He didn't sit, but he squatted down in front of her, his jaw ticking as he clenched and re-clenched his teeth. "I almost filed the paperwork to sever our partnership, Bones. After that, I didn't think you were gonna trust me enough to let me work with you... Not with the same level of trust you'd had in me before..." When he saw the panic in her eyes flash back at him, he knew he had her attention. "I had the documents all filled out, Bones, ready to go to Cullen..."

"But..." She struggled to understand his logic. "Why? I don't understand."

"Because, I didn't think I could handle taking you back out into the field of a I didn't know you had complete trust in me and my devotion to you. I couldn't risk taking you to a crime scene, where there was still danger, if I thought you wouldn't let me do my job. And when you blamed me for not telling you... That told me that you didn't trust me."

"I never stopped trusting you," she tried to allay his fears.

"That's a lie, and you know it. I saw it in your eyes, Bones. I saw it in your expressions and in the way you stopped talking to me socially for weeks after that. You would only see me or take my calls if they pertained to a case." He watched as shame filled her cheeks. "It was written all over you."

"Booth..."

"When did you find out?"

"That you were still alive? At the funeral... You know that."

"No, Bones!" He pushed to his feet, not caring who was watching their interaction. Leaning into her personal space, he growled at her, nose-to-nose. "When did you fucking find out that it was all an experiment? When did you figure it out and why the _hell_ didn't you tell me!?"

"I..." She stuttered, trying to wrap her mind around the anger directed towards her instead of at Sweets, "It... Well..."

"Spit it out, Bones. I know you remember... You have a damn eidetic memory recall, I _know_ you remember!"

"It took me a few days... After you made Sweets admit that he was the person who was supposed to tell me..." She sat back in her seat, trying to make herself smaller so she didn't feel so exposed to Booth's hard scrutiny. "I thought back to the days after you were shot and the way he would hover around me... Asking me questions, trying to get me to open up and talk..." She licked her lips again, feeling suddenly parched, but without anything in arm's reach to quench her thirst. "He had been talking to everyone... And he even had Angela try to convince me to go talk to him..." She felt the heat of her tears falling down her cheeks. "I didn't want to talk to him about how I was feeling... I didn't want to talk to Angela, I didn't want to talk to Cam..." The emotion was pouring from her eyes freely at that point, and she turned to face the wall, wanting to hide from the people who had stopped trying to pretend they weren't watching and listening. "I just wanted to talk to _you_... And you weren't there... And you would never be there again... Not for me," she hiccuped quietly, "and not for Parker..."

Booth was torn. He wanted to comfort her, wanted to pull her into the security of his embrace and protect her from everyone's accusatory and gawking stares. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was and how much he cared about her, even back then. But at the same time, he was so enraged at the whole debacle that he wanted to throw his hands up and say _fuck it all_. He was pissed at Sweets for putting his emotionally fragile partner through unnecessary hell and nearly being the catalyst of a broken partnership, perhaps even an unrepairable friendship. But more agonizingly obvious, even if it was unfair, he was angrier that his partner had kept something so huge from him. She had carried this blatant lie with her for years, when she should had let him in on the secret so he could have shouldered her burden.

"I confronted Sweets about it. And when I did, he tried to make up excuses... But even I knew they were empty..." Dragging her red-rimmed eyes back to Booth, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. "I told him if he ever tried to experiment on us again, that I would tell you. And I may even have hinted that you would shoot him..." Her brow wrinkled. "I was so distracted by my feelings that I don't remember the actual conversation... But I know I threatened him." She hoped that he would accept the truth as an apology, because she regretted not telling him... But they had become so successful that she didn't see a reason to bring it up once it was finally over...

"That's not good enough, Bones." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "You let me think that it was all my fault... That I should have broken protocol to tell you and then you led me to believe that you actually accepted Sweets' piss-poor excuse of '_knowing you could handle it_...' You have no idea how close I was to calling it quits, Bones." He pulled out her room key and tapped it against the side of his wallet. "But if you had just been honest, _back then_, maybe I wouldn't've been so pissed... Maybe we could have handled it _together_..." He extended his hand to her, giving her the room key. "I need to take a break. I need some time." He shoved his wallet back into his pocket. "And space."

Brennan felt like she'd been punched in the gut as opposed to simply handed a key. "Booth, I thought-"

He held his hand up, knowing he should be more understandable, but not able to get past his temper quite so quickly. "I just need some time, Bones, and I don't want you stuck without your key."

"Where are you going?" Her voice betrayed her vulnerable feelings, but she knew that Booth had a right to be angry. Considering how mad she had just been, moments before, at hearing his admittance to protecting her, she knew she had no business faulting him. She just wished it wasn't so heavily weighed towards her.

"Agent Booth," Sweets had been watching the animated interaction between his patients from the distance across the room, but didn't know the topic of discussion. He did, however, recognize the pained, pleading look on Brennan's face and the tension in Booth's stance, and he knew their talk wasn't going well. He stalked across the room with the intention to intervene and assist the struggling partners find their path once again. He placed an open hand on Booth's shoulder as he approached from behind, not making his presence known to either of them until it was too late.

Booth heard the voice, and felt the hand, and practically snapped. He spun around, grabbing Sweets by the shirt, slamming him into the wall beside them. "Don't touch me," he threatened, "don't come anywhere near me, Sweets." He released his grip when he felt an audience closing in around them, still at a distance, but too close for comfort. Biting back another growl, he turned without another word and stalked to the door, onlookers scattering out of his path as he moved.

Brennan sat in her chair and watched her partner walk away. Refusing to answer anyone's curious questions, she simply sat there for several moments, long after the door closed behind him with nothing more than a whisper. Her unfocused eyes readjusted as Sweets planted himself in Booth's abandoned chair. She stared at him coldly, knowing that if he hadn't done what he did when Booth was shot saving her life, she wouldn't have had such a traumatic confession to make to her partner.

"Dr. Brennan," he said gently, wanting to soothe her disgruntled demeanor. "Are you alright?"

"I don't have anything to say to you, Dr. Sweets." She picked up her notebook and bent over to collect Booth's discarded book and pen from where they had fallen to the floor when he shot to his feet.

"Dr. Brennan, I think we need to talk," he glanced sideways at the gathering of people who were still hovering. "Why don't we go someplace quiet?"

She stood up and narrowed her eyes at him, pushing down all her desires to physically lash out at the younger man who was the ultimate cause of their current predicament. "I don't think you heard me. I don't want to talk to you, Sweets. And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Booth. He's not too happy with you either..." She pulled the notepads to her chest, holding them protectively.

"Me?" His surprise was made evident by the high pitched question. "Why me? I didn't do anything!"

"I told him, Sweets." She didn't feel like beating around the bush, despite how she often enjoyed seeing him squirm whenever she and Booth toyed with him by being purposely evasive or difficult in their sessions. "I told him about how you let me believe for two weeks that he had died, taking a bullet that was meant for me. I told him about how you kept trying to get me to talk and how you even engaged my best friend in trying to coax me into your office for a session of open '_honesty_' during a time when I was left feeling responsible for his son having to grow up without a father..." She saw Sweets pale at what she was telling him. "And then he told me that _you_ almost cost us our partnership, because your little experiment on me had caused me to lose the trust I'd always had in him..." She wiped a tear away. "So, no, we don't want to talk to you, Sweets. We have nothing else to say to you."

She straightened her back and pushed past the people who were openly listening to her one-sided conversation with Sweets. She didn't know if or when Booth would forgive her for keeping something so important to herself, but she knew she had to try to make him understand.

If he would even talk to her...

**Postscript A/N **

**I think we can all agree that Booth's temper would get the better of him if Brennan ever let him in on the little secret that Sweets had used them for his own study…. Granted, I don't think that he should really hold it against her alone, but I think he would definitely lash out, and unfortunately, she would be the one receiving the brunt of his anger…**

**Let's just hope JazzyMuse behaves herself and opens Booth's eyes before he says something to Brennan that he will end up regretting….. *bites nails* **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N Welcome back! This is a much shorter version of Chapter 19 than I had originally planned, so for that, I apologize. I had this much already edited and wanted to get it posted tonight. If you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen that I lost my 16-year-old dog, Tawny, yesterday. The loss has me in a bit of a funk and I was afraid that getting my mind back into editing might take me a few extra days. I didn't want you guys to lose interest in my story, so I wanted it posted right away. I promise to try not to take too long editing the rest, which will simply become Chapter 20, once it's posted. **

**Please review and let me know your thoughts, I could sure use the feedback. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. If I did, I would have inserted both my dogs, Tusker and Tawny, into episodes so everyone could have seen what awesome dogs they were… **

Brennan took her time making her way back upstairs, allowing her partner the personal space she knew he needed before interrupting him. The slowly walked through the lobby of the hotel and decided to take the stairs up to the ninth floor, reviewing their conversations in her mind as she went. Booth wasn't there by the time she returned to their rooms. She interrupted housekeeping by entering her own room, so she nodded politely and ducked through the adjoining doors, thankful that he hadn't shut them, closing her out completely. Looking at the dresser, she knew he had been there already, as his phone was docked in its charging cradle, a clear sign that he didn't want to be disturbed. Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, Brennan just looked around, feeling a little lost, but knowing that his reaction, and its high degree of explosiveness, was as much her fault as it was Sweets'. She knew, deep down, that she should have told Booth back when it had happened, but at the time, she thought she was doing the right thing to try to simply push past the matter. Only now, in hindsight, did she realize the damage she had inadvertently inflicted upon their partnership, _and _she feared, upon their relationship.

Wondering where her partner may have gone, she moved to the closet and punched his code into the built-in safe, pausing only briefly to realize she was doing much the same as she had done when she went to his house two weeks prior, after jeopardizing their partnership that day as well. She peeked inside the small space and spotted his badge, his sidearm and the truck keys. Satisfied that he was still on property somewhere, she relocked the safe and moved to the balcony.

The beach was becoming more crowded now; the weather was clearing up nicely, and she stood at the railing and watched, studying families and friends enjoying the surf. She even noticed a few people she recognized, and knew the workshop must have finished already. When the hotel phone started ringing beside Booth's bed, she spun on her heel and trotted over to answer it quickly.

"Hello?"

"Oh, umm," the male voice on the other end sounded startled. "I must have dialed the wrong room number."

"Who were you calling?" She had a feeling she knew who was on the other end, but she wasn't positive.

"I was trying to reach Agent Booth."

"You called the correct room. This is his partner, Dr. Brennan. Can I help you?"

"Oh, hey!" The voice sounded friendlier now. "It's Marcus."

"I suspected it might have been you, but never having spoken to you on the telephone before, I couldn't be certain. Booth isn't here."

"Oh, sorry. Are you and he...umm, I mean..." He stumbled over his words, deciding maybe he didn't want to know the answer to his real question of whether or not the partners really were more than just partners, as so many suspected. Deciding to alter the route of their conversation, he returned to the initial purpose of his call. "Well, if you guys are interested, or just you, since he isn't there, a bunch of us are gonna go rent some jet skis for an hour or so. Thought you'd like to go, too?"

"Oh," she wasn't expecting to be invited to partake in an activity with her partner's colleagues, so she felt a little off kilter. While she would have enjoyed to ride a jet ski for the first time, she didn't want to do it without Booth, so she decided that she needed to get some work done, instead. "Well, thank you, but I am not interested in riding on a jet ski, as I have some work I need to complete. And seeing as how Booth's current location is unknown to me at present, I can't really answer for him, but when he comes back, if he returns within the hour, I will direct him down to the docks." She hoped that she didn't sound too stand-offish in her decline.

"Aw, man," Marcus Gray was genuinely disappointed, especially at the fact that Brennan wouldn't join them on her own. "Are you sure? It's gunna be a blast!" He figured it wouldn't hurt to try to entice her just a little. "You can ride with me, I promise not to let you fall in."

"That is a generous offer, Marcus, but I am certain." She glanced out at the sky again. "I hope the weather holds out for you all, it's supposed to rain on and off throughout the day."

"Yeah, we'll be fine. Ok well, if you change your mind," he shrugged even though she couldn't see him, "c'mon down and we'll get you squared away."

"Thank you. Have fun, Marcus." She ended the call after he bid her goodbye and she pondered her next move, since Booth was basically incommunicado for the time being. She heard housekeeping leave her room, so she walked back over and dug out a couple of Anthropology Today journals that were still waiting to be read and tossed them on the bed. Looking outside once again and seeing blue skies, she decided to put on her bathing suit and sit down on the beach to read.

B/B/B/B

Marcus hung up the courtesy lobby phone and turned to the small group of colleagues who had decided to enjoy the quickly-clearing weather.

"That was...weird."

"What do you mean?" Perotta questioned the handsome man, as her eyes skimmed his face, not at all trying to hide her interest in him.

"I just called Booth, but Dr. Brennan answered." His brow wrinkled.

"There's nothing unusual with that, they are often together, even after they fight," Shaw contributed to the conversation. "You should see them really go at it sometimes, and then they just sit down for a cup of coffee together down on the Mall." She shrugged and looked at Perotta for confirmation, which she quickly received in the form of the blond nodding. "It's just how they are."

"Are they gonna come down?" Smitty was anxious to get outside and get his name on the list for the jet skis, wanting to enjoy the beach since he didn't often get to dip his feet in the sand with his hectic work schedule.

"No," Marcus thought about the conversation. "I don't think they were together..." He looked back at Perotta. "She said Booth wasn't there. And she isn't interested in going on a jet ski." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Do you think they're," she raised one shoulder, "you know?"

Payton Perotta burst out laughing, as did several other Hoover employees. "Well, it you'd like to put some money into the pool, I think it's up to about $6,200 for the winner."

"The _pool_?" Robinson questioned his partner, interested in what all his Hoover teammates seemed to know that he didn't.

"Yeah," Perotta nodded as the group started to move towards the exit, everyone eager to get outside. "You can bet money on when you think Booth and Brennan started doing it, or when they _will _begin doing it..." She chuckled. "Of course, if they _are_ already doing it, I don't know how we are gonna be able to determine when they started!"

Marcus felt his shoulders deflate ever so slightly in defeat as he followed close behind, listening to Perotta. He was quickly realizing that any real chances of starting something up with the good doctor were slim to nil. Of course, he felt a swell of optimism rising in his chest, if Booth hadn't made _the move_ yet, maybe he really wasn't interested in his partner... He would have to spend a little more time observing the two of them from a close distance. Striding up alongside Perotta, he probed for information.

"So they argue often?" The conversation continued as the small group climbed the stairs of the dock and approached the dive shop where they could rent the jet skis. Soon, however, the topic of discussion changed, as it should have, to the activity at hand and the colleagues enjoyed some quality time in the ocean.

B/B/B/B

As she pulled on her suit, Brennan mentally reviewed their morning and everything that had gone wrong. She got upset with Booth at his admission, and it still struck a nerve with her, albeit a much less severe one, now that it was all over. She reminded herself that she shouldn't be surprised at his actions, even back then. Angela had been calling him her "knight in shining FBI armor" because of his protective nature over her ever since they began their partnership. Over the years, she had learned that Booth didn't really do things to be degrading or demeaning to her, and that he didn't think she was incapable of taking care of herself, he simply needed to feel in charge. And he needed to protect the people he cared about. While it often still unnerved her on several levels, she realized that her reaction to what he was telling her that morning was, perhaps, out of proportion with how she felt now, in their current state of partnership. Yes, she admitted to herself, she had overreacted as she traveled in her mind back to that early time in their partnership, and she understood why Booth would have kept his actions secret from her, especially back then. If he'd admitted to her, back then, why he missed the funeral, there was a good chance she would have suspended their working partnership for an undetermined amount of time.

She pulled her suntan lotion from the bag and started to rub it into the pale skin of her arms, absently thinking about the way Booth's hands felt when he was applying it the day before. She couldn't describe how she felt while he was touching her in any other way than it felt '_right_' to have his hands smoothing the creamy lotion across her fair skin, protecting her even against the harsh UV rays, just as he always protected her. A wave of sorrow washed over her as she thought about how she had hurt him that morning by revealing a secret that was too-long buried, and she briefly wondered if she would ever feel his hands on her in the same way again, or if they would go back to having the distance between them that had stunted their partnership over the past few months.

She then started applying the lotion to her legs while pondering a way to express to her partner that she hadn't meant to bring him any emotional pain, or to make him angry. She simply wanted him to know the truth of what had happened back then. Lately, they were moving towards each other so perfectly that she just wanted open honesty and transparency between them. If she had even an inkling of an idea that he would've reacted quite so harshly, she would have, perhaps, waited until they were alone to reveal that particular story to him. By the time she finished her routine, Brennan had settled on the decision to just talk to him, trusting that they would be able to work through this obstacle, just as they worked through so many others.

Grabbing her beach bag, the scientist filled it with a towel, a bottle of water, her magazines and the lotion. She wrapped her sarong around her torso and, as a second thought, walked back over to Booth's room and rummaged until she found the Fed Cases t-shirt from the day before and stuffed that into her bag as well.

B/B/B/B

The hard-packed sand felt good beneath Booth's feet as they pounded out a steady rhythm. The impact on his war-torn body as he jogged along the beach was much less than when he ran through the park at home, following the sidewalk around the perimeter of the property. He was glad to feel the heat of the sun warming his shoulders and suspected that they would end up with a pretty pleasant day, weather-wise, after all.

He thought about the morning, grinding his teeth in frustration as he pushed harder, trying to burn off his energy, and anger, through a good, solid run. He knew he shouldn't have gotten angry with Brennan, but he couldn't help the onslaught of his temper when she revealed such a horrible act that Sweets had done and that she had helped cover up. He toyed with the idea of taking the truth to Cullen and demanding disciplinary action on the intrusive shrink. He wondered, however, if it would even matter after so many years. The Suits upstairs might look at their overall success rate since the incident and argue that the breakdown in communication simply wasn't a factor.

But it wasn't actually a _breakdown _of communication... He had entrusted his list to Cullen and his boss had assured him that those people would be notified. Did Cullen even know that Sweets decided not to tell Brennan? Did Sweets hand Cullen the same bullshit line that Brennan had the 'capabilities to cope'? Or did the twelve-year-old just take it upon himself to make the decision? These are things he didn't know, and it bothered Booth that he was the guinea pig in an experiment that he didn't even know was underway. And worse, that little experiment caused his emotionally distraught partner to shut down, returning to her old ways of working herself into exhaustion, only catching naps when Angela forced her away from her bones. For two whole weeks….

Initially Brennan had blamed _him _for not breaking protocol and calling her, but he felt that she came to understand that he could've lost his job if he did that. And hell, he didn't even know he would have needed to doubly ensure that his wishes were carried out... As far as he knew, she was well aware of the situation... It's not like he had a minute to himself while he was recovering in that safe house, anyway. They had taken away his phone for monitoring purposes and he had two agents with him every damn minute of the day, so even if he _wanted _to sneak away to call her, just to hear her voice, he didn't have the opportunity to.

Slowing his pace to a brisk walk, he finally paused and looked out at the ocean while he caught his breath. Booth knew he needed to apologize to his partner, if she would even talk to him at that point, but he still wasn't sure how he was going to handle the metaphoric thorn in their sides named Sweets. He was gonna have a serious talk with the boy, that was for damn sure, but he needed to be careful... If he was too irrational, he might lose his partnership if Sweets decided to retaliate, or worse, he could lose his job altogether, and _that_ was not an option... He needed his damn job...

Stretching his neck and back, he knew it was time to go back and search for his partner/ He needed to ask for her forgiveness... They had both revealed difficult secrets that morning, and they both said some things that were hurtful, but he could look past her name-calling and condescending attitude towards him, he realized she resorted to such behavior only when she was frustrated and scared. But _he_ had actually walked away from _her_... And he needed her to know that just because he walked away to cool off, that didn't mean he wasn't going to walk back _to _her. Reversing directions, he built up to his comfortable jogging pace and focused on the pulling sensations in his calves and thighs as he moved back down the beach.

As their hotel came into view, Booth noticed how much thicker the crowds on the beach had become. It made sense; it was Sunday, the weather turned out to be quite beautiful and even the locals wanted to have an opportunity to enjoy some fun in the sun. His eyes skimmed the faces of those he passed and approached, as well as the many bodies spread out on blankets and towels trying to catch a little bit of that perpetually sought-after sun-kissed look. Curious about the large number of food trucks that had lined up in the public parking lot just next to the hotel, the agent decided to take a detour and check out their offerings. Booth stopped at the second truck and smiled, his mouth watering at the fresh fruit on display. He greeted the kid inside and read the menu options.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" The young man nodded at Booth, extending a platter with cubes of pineapple on toothpicks. "Wanna piece? You look pretty warm."

"Yeah, thanks," Booth happily stabbed an extra chunk and popped them both into his mouth. "Went for a jog and wasn't expecting it to get so warm." He chewed the fruit and eyed the menu once more. "Gimme a large Mango-Tango Smoothie and Banana Monkey Smoothie."

"You got it, dude." The young twenty-something man turned and washed his hands, calling over his shoulder. "You want the regular large? For only three-dollars more, you can have it in a Virginia Beach souvenir mug… We got one with sharks and one with dolphins." He turned to face Booth as he dried his hands, a crooked smile spreading across his face.

Booth rolled his eyes surprised that even food trucks upsell patrons, but then he saw the cups the kid was talking about. They were not as garishly ugly as some souvenir cups one might find at a beach-side tourist shop; they were actually pretty cool looking and he thought Parker would like the shark.

"Yeah, alright. Put the mango-tango in a dolphin and the monkey in the shark."

"Good man," the stranger cheered. Without another word, he set about blending the fruit that would make the requested smoothies and presented them to the agent with a flourish. "When you're ready for another, you get refills half price," he accepted Booth's cash and returned his change with a nod. "Enjoy!"

"Yeah, thanks," Booth looked down at the cups he was now holding. Somewhere beneath a spear of fresh mixed fruit, a gaudy paper umbrella and a bizarre spiral straw he hoped to find a refreshing drink. Taking a sip through his own neon-green straw, he nodded in approval and turned towards the hotel, wondering where he might find his partner.

B/B/B/B

Brennan had been sitting on a lounge chair for a while, watching people she recognized having what appeared to be quite a good time on the jet skis. She could hear them laughing and calling out, challenging each other to races or in congratulations for successfully dousing another rider with a large wave of water. She couldn't help but smile and wonder if she should have accepted Marcus' offer to join the group. She could see Marcus out on the water, he was riding double with Perotta. If the anthropologist wasn't mistaken, based on her observations the previous evening, Perotta was probably enjoying herself immensely. Several times during the evening, Brennan had spotted the petite blond watching Marcus closely with a familiar glint in her eye... It was familiar because Brennan had watched jealously when Perotta flashed that very same look at Booth several times, until she finally got the hint that he wasn't interested in her. The scientist still saw a flash of it on occasion, like when the agent had joined them out in the ocean and she gave Booth a solid measuring-up before hiding her interest once again, but she felt comfortable that Booth was not interested in pursuing a relationship of any sorts with Payton Perotta.

Picking up her magazine, she stared at the same article she had been trying to read for the better part of an hour, but had found herself distracted constantly and unable to complete even the first paragraph. With a frustrated grunt, she tossed the journal into her bag and started digging out the other one she brought down with her, hoping she could find something to occupy her thoughts with topics _other_ than her partner and wondering where he was...

B/B/B/B

Marcus pulled the waverunner up to the dock, knowing his time on the big-boy-toy was coming to an end. "That was fun, huh?" He smiled down at Perotta, where she was seated in front of him, between his parted thighs.

She laughed, nodding as she swiped her hands down her face, wiping away water droplets that had splattered her as they played in the ocean. Accepting his outstretched hand when they were tied up and parked, she stepped off the machine. "Yeah, that was great," she agreed. "I've always wanted to try riding one, but never wanted to rent one on my own. Thanks for letting me double up with you."

Marcus smiled, admiring the shapely woman who had expressed tangible interest in him. "Hey, the pleasure was all mine." He flashed a wide smile as he fell into step beside her and walked back towards the gathering of friends who'd all partaken in the hour of fun. He wrinkled his brow when he realized the group was all facing the same direction and were relatively quiet. "What's goin' on?" He asked Smitty and tried to follow the line of sight in the general direction everyone was staring. Spotting the point of interest, he felt an involuntary smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Oh... _That's_ going on..." He nudged Perotta gently with his elbow. "This should be interesting, maybe we should clear all the innocent bystanders outta the way..."

Perotta saw to what he was referring and she rolled her eyes. A short distance down the beach, Brennan was sitting on a lounge chair, flipping through a magazine, completely unaware of the approaching figure closing in from behind. Perotta chuckled when she saw everyone's gaping stares, frozen in place and unable to turn away, as if they were waiting for an atomic blast. "They'll be fine," she stated matter-of-factly. "They always are. You guys all need to get a hobby…. This Booth-n-Brennan-watching is getting outta control."

Shaw turned to the senior agent and nodded. "I agree, they'll be fine, but we don't usually get to _witness _the aftermath... We typically see them fight, and then they disappear, and a while later, we see them together again and they're fine." She shrugged, smiling impishly. "You gotta admit, it's _intriguing_..." She turned back and giggled, watching the big, strong agent slow his approach and almost hesitate before closing the rest of the distance separating him from his fiery partner.

B/B/B/B

"Hey, Bones," he said softly as he reached the side of her chair.

Brennan had known he was nearby; she could somehow sense his proximity shortly before he spoke. She tilted her head and used the bill of her Jeffersonian baseball cap to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him.

"Hello." She wasn't sure of his mood, but the fact that he had been the one to break the ice was a good sign.

Booth smiled stiffly and handed her the smoothie he'd chosen for her, hoping she would like it, and perhaps more, hoping it would give him the opening to sit and talk.

Brennan's eyes widened as she accepted the cup. Staring down at the bright, fresh fruit and tacky paper umbrella, she raised questioning eyes up at her partner. "What's this?"

Booth shrugged one shoulder, glanced briefly out at the ocean and back to her, locking her eyes. "A peace offering?"

**Postscript A/N **

**Ahh, our Boothy-boy is giving a peace offering, what a sweetie….Even if he does have a temper. **

**Perhaps this chapter wasn't very exciting, but I hope you enjoyed anyway. **

**I look forward to hearing from you. **

**peace and love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N Welcome back. **

**Thank you all for your reviews &amp; messages, both about the story and about Tawny. I really appreciate it. This was originally intended to be part of the previous chapter, but, as I said before, I wasn't in the frame of mind to edit anymore at that point. I appreciate your patience and understanding.**

**Disclaimer: Still own nothing of importance. Just my piddly-little-story. **

_Brennan's eyes widened as she accepted the cup. Staring down at the bright, fresh fruit and tacky paper umbrella, she raised questioning eyes up at her partner. "What's this?" _

_Booth shrugged one shoulder, glanced briefly out at the ocean and back to her, locking her eyes. "A peace offering?" _

She smiled and looked back down, trying to see into the overcrowded mouth of the insulated cup. "I meant _literally_, Booth... What is it?"

"Oh," he chuckled, "it's a mango-tango fruit smoothie..." A broad, cheesy smile spread across his mouth. "Served in a genuine Virginia Beach souvenir cup... _With dolphins_..." His eyes danced behind his sunglasses as he looked down at his partner inspecting her drink.

"Sounds refreshing," she sipped the swirly straw and raised her eyebrows in pleasant surprise when the sweet treat finally made it into her mouth. "It's good," she pulled a plump strawberry from the spear and bit into it. "Thank you," she said after swallowing the fruit.

The agent nodded, glancing around, looking for an empty chair that he could pull closer. Finding none, he looked back down where she sat looking up at him. "Mind if I sit?" He pointed to the footrest of her lounge, "there aren't any other chairs..."

"No, I don't mind at all," she responded immediately. Pulling her feet up towards her body and angling her bent knees slightly to her left, she wrapped her arms around her legs to hold them close to her body, allowing enough room for Booth to settle at the end of her chair.

Booth kicked off his sneakers and tucked his socks inside, letting his toes dig into the sand on either side of the chair as he straddled his perch, facing her. He took a moment to drink before taking a deep breath, wanting to get the necessary discussion out of the way before any more time lapsed. "Listen, Bones..."

"Let me go first, Booth," Brennan interrupted him, straightening her back, subconsciously bracing herself for another argument. "Please?"

B/B/B/B

"Well, this is disappointingly anticlimactic," Smitty shook his head as he watched a very civil interaction unfolding between Booth and Brennan. He looked at Shaw, whose head was tilted to the side as she observed her superior officer and his partner. "After the blow-up this morning," Smitty continued, "I thought we'd see _at least_ a few fireworks."

Shaw shrugged. "Agent Perotta said they'd be fine... Looks like she knows 'em pretty well..." She turned to Janet with a smile. "I guess we can all learn a little something about compromise from Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan." She swiveled her eyes towards where she last saw Perotta, intending to give her props for calling the result, but found herself looking at the blond agent's back, instead. Perotta was walking away slowly, with an eager-looking Marcus Gray close at her heels. Shaw smiled, hoping that the action indicated a shift in Marcus' attention _away_ from Dr. Brennan and _towards_ Perotta. Although Shaw was, like everyone else, interested in the inner-workings of the most successful partnership in FBI history, she didn't like the idea of anyone else, male or female, interfering with the two people she knew belonged together. She respected Booth as her superior, but she was a pure-romantic at heart, and longed to see the day when her boss finally took a chance with his partner, putting everyone around them out of their anticipatory misery.

"C'mon," Shaw tapped Smitty on his bicep. "There's a volleyball net over in the pool begging for a game. Let's get a game goin'."

With a reluctant final glance across the beach, the Dover Agent agreed, appreciative of the opportunity to partake in activities with other agents, especially those of the opposite gender who seemed to also like competitive sport.

B/B/B/B

Noticing Brennan's discomfort and feeling all the worse for being the cause of the worry lines creasing her smooth brow, Booth acquiesced to Brennan's request. "Um, ok," he nodded once and placed his drink on the small table at the side of her chair. "Hang on," he held a finger out, watching as a young man walked their way, pulling a large-wheeled wagon filled with collapsed umbrellas. Catching the kids attention, he motioned him over. "What's the deal with the umbrellas? You rent 'em?"

"No, sir. They belong to the hotel. If you are a registered guest, you can use one for free if you'd like."

The agent pointed to the hole in the table where he'd just set his drink. "Yeah, ok. We want one."

"Sure," the teen pulled an electronic device from his hip. "I just need your room number and last name, please?"

"Room 927, Booth."

The boy punched the information into the device and nodded, turning to pull an umbrella from his collection. "Ok," he slipped it into place, anchoring it to a base beneath the small table and unwinding it so it was open, shading the guests. "Here ya go. You can leave it in place when you leave, just stop by the Beach Shack and let them know you're done with it."

"You bet," Booth reached into his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill, handing the tip to the kid. "Thanks."

"Thank _you_, Mr. Booth," the high-schooler smiled at receiving the money; it wasn't often that people offered him something in return for his service. He pulled the strap of his trolley back over his shoulder and nodded to the partners. "You have a good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Booth. Let us know if there is anything else you need." He didn't wait around long enough to hear Brennan's strangled correction to his assumption that they were married, the hotel employee just moved along, acknowledging the next customer vying for his attention.

"You didn't correct him, Booth." Brennan looked indignant. "He thinks we're married."

Booth shrugged. "Yeah, well, it doesn't bother me," he dared a smirk. "Not the first time someone suspected we were together... Won't be the last, either." His dark eyes challenged her to doubt his declaration.

Feeling her cheeks grow warm, Brennan realized her partner was right, but wasn't sure she was ready to admit to the truth just yet. "Why did you want one, anyway? I was enjoying the sun..."

"Well, 'cause your face is already burned, Bones. You didn't put lotion on, did you?"

"I did! I put it on before coming down here."

"And you went swimming when you came down?"

"Yes. But it's Coppertone brand. It's water-proof."

"Did you wipe your face dry with your towel?"

"Y-yes..."

"So all that white goo, there on the corner of your towel," he pointed at where it hung over the edge of her chair, "probably all came from your face, then?"

Brennan sat there, stunned for a moment. He was right, of course. She had wiped all her lotion off when she came out from her quick dip into the ocean, and she hadn't even thought about re-applying it. "Oh... Right..."

Booth let one side of his mouth lift softly as he watched her dig into the bag, searching for her bottle. When she pulled it out from the depths, he took it from her hands and scooted forward, closing the distance between them just a little. "Here," he poured some onto his fingertips. "You talk, I'll smear..."

The scientist could feel her heart rate increase, but took a calming breath, knowing that if they could just get past the morning's blow-up, they could move forward. She tucked her toes beneath the edge of his leg and nodded, watching with wide eyes as his fingers grew nearer, finally touching her cheek with the cool cream. Her eyelids fell closed without permission as she sat perfectly still, letting his calloused fingers spread the protective lotion over her cheekbone.

"I'm listening," he encouraged her quietly, hoping that the close contact between them would help with what needed to be said. Pouring more lotion onto his fingers, he waited for her to begin. Once she started speaking, be continued applying the lotion on her other cheek.

"Well..." She swallowed thickly, her worried eyes watching him carefully before closing again as his lotion-covered-fingers grew nearer to her lower lid. "I'm sorry I got so upset with you this morning. I just...I hate the idea that you could have been injured down in Little Salvadore while trying to protect me..." She peeked at him through one cracked lid before letting it close again, enjoying the feel of his fingers on her skin, crossing the bridge of her nose and finally smoothing the worried creases she felt marring her brow. "I felt myself grow angry, as if you had told me back then... It doesn't make sense," she argued with herself in a ramble of words. "It was almost as if we were standing in the cemetery and you told me... I mean, I imagine that is how I would have reacted if you told me just after you'd done it... Before I knew you so well." Opening her eyes to meet his as he watched her, she finally felt her posture relax and she tilted her head. "I shouldn't have gotten so upset with you now... We can't change what's past, and you weren't harmed, so..." She shrugged, not really sure what else there was to say about her explosive reaction. "I didn't mean to call you and arrogant sonofabitch..." A rueful laugh escaped her throat. "I don't think that about you. I don't know where that came from..." She looked down, studying a tiny scar on her knee made visible by the way she had her legs bent as she sat opposite her partner.

"I was worried about telling you..." Booth knew he needed to admit his own insecurities about the situation. "I mean, back then I knew better… I knew that if I'd told you, then I could most likely kiss our partnership goodbye, 'cause you woulda kicked my ass to the curb... But even now, in that room this morning, I was worried." He watched as she raised her vulnerable blues up to look at him, and he assured her with a nod. "I knew you'd be upset. Hell, I dunno why I decided to tell you about it... I just," he shrugged, "well, it seemed important. But I guess I could've waited until we were home..." Dropping his head to one side, to match her angle, he just looked at her for a moment, neither of them speaking. Finally, he broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Bones."

"It's ok. I understand, Booth." She inhaled slowly. "I think I probably should have waited until we were alone to tell you my secret too... Or," she toyed with admitting that she now doubted the necessity of voicing it at all, "maybe I should have simply left well-enough alone."

"No." He wanted her to immediately stop second guessing herself or her decision to confide in him. "That was important. _Way _more important than anything else." Feeling suddenly parched, he reached over to the table and grabbed his frozen drink. "I," he mulled his next statement over in his mind briefly. "I'm most angry at Sweets... He had no right to do what he did. I am angry at the FBI for putting me in that position, and mad at Cullen for trusting Sweets to do the job that _he_ had promised would be done." Swallowing another mouthful of smoothie, he took a deep breath. "I was a little angry at you, I won't lie. But I was mostly hurt."

She snapped her eyes back up from where she had been focusing on his mouth as he spoke.

"I was hurt because you didn't trust me enough with something that directly affected our partnership in a major way."

"I just wanted to move on." She felt ashamed, but she didn't know exactly why. The _scientist _inside understood experiments; she comprehended variables, and expected outcomes, and all that is involved with conducting studies in the unknown. But the _woman _inside knew that his 'death' had changed her...profoundly.

"Bones," he reached out and wrapped his hand around her ankle softly, palming her Achilles tendon. "If I could take it back and do it over, I would... All of it. I would change what happened back then and it would, in turn, alter what happened this morning... But I can't. And I'm sorry..."

"No, Booth. I don't want you to be sorry; I'm not asking for an apology... I just don't think you understand just how desperately I needed to move past the whole debacle."

"I know you were hurt, Bones," his voice was compassionate, caring.

"It was more..." She closed her eyes and dropped her head to her upraised knees, resting her forehead against her patella as she fought for composure. Lifting her face just enough so her cheek could rest on her leg, she prepared to admit more than she had ever expected to. "I tried to call Parker..." She looked off in the distance, watching the waves crash against the shoreline as she got lost in a memory. "I tried calling every day. And each time, Rebecca stopped me from talking to him." She refocused on his dark eyes. "Afterwards, of course, I understood why... They knew the truth...and I didn't... Sweets probably told Rebecca not to let Parker talk to me..." She sniffed and sat back against the chair, looking down at his hand where it was still cupping the back of her foot tenderly. She lost herself in thought.

"Why did you try to call Parks?"

His question was quiet, so much so that she almost didn't hear it over the joyful screams of children chasing each other through the surf. Brennan watched a toddler unsuccessfully try to catch her older brother and she couldn't help but smile, imagining, somewhere in the back of her mind, that it could be a scene out of any era, any generation... Blinking, she turned back and looked at her partner. "I wanted him to know how much you loved him... I was sure, you know, that Rebecca would have reminded him, but I also wanted to say it. I wanted to make sure he knew that you loved him more than anything..." She struggled unsuccessfully to stop an errant tear from leaking from the corner if her eye. "And I wanted him to know that even though you were gone, he could still call me if he needed anything..." She swallowed thickly, choking back a sob. "That I would still be there for him… Always…"

"Bones," he whispered, not trusting his full voice.

"And," she didn't want to be interrupted. "I planned to eventually tell him how sorry I was that he had lost you to a bullet meant for me... But I wouldn't have done that right away..." She avoided the dark eyes she knew were watching her intently. "I said it to Rebecca, though... Two days before your funeral, I told her how sorry I was that you wouldn't see Parker grow into the brilliant man I knew he would become, and that it was my fault... She told me that I should stop torturing myself..." Finally, she dragged her eyes back to his, focusing through bleary vision. "And I didn't call the next day, I got the distinct feeling that she didn't want me to call anymore..."

"Bones, even if I _had _died, it wouldn't have been your fault. It would have been Pam's fault... She pulled the trigger." He felt gutted, the pain and agony his partner had gone through was apparent, and she was finally opening up to him about it. But he hated that she was, quite clearly, reliving the anguish.

Ignoring his statement, she looked down again, watching his thumb sweep up and down, tracing and outlining her calcaneal tendon, as he continued to touch her. "I went to your apartment."

"You don't need to go through this again, Bones." He knew she had been in his place during that time, and had often considered asking her about it. Seeing how affected she was by reliving the memories, however, he just wanted her to stop. He wanted her pain to go away. He wanted to make it better...

"After I left the hospital, after they told me you were dead and that I was not permitted to view your body because I was not _family_... I stood outside your door for… I don't know how long… For several minutes...tapping on the wood, quietly at first, hoping that I was stuck in a horrible dream, and that, if I knocked long enough, _and eventually loud enough_, you would come open the door, waking me from the nightmare. But you never came." When she looked up at him, she could see tears shimmering in his eyes, also. "I took the key from your _stupid _fake rock and let myself in... At first I just stood there in your foyer, listening to the silence. I moved through your living room without turning on any lights and went straight back to your room. I found a t-shirt, fell into your bed and slept there that night." She raised one shoulder, shrugging once. "I couldn't go home..."

"I know you did, Bones." The wrinkle in her brow told him she didn't understand. "When I finally came home, I knew you had been there... My bed was made different from how I usually make it." He lifted both her legs by her ankles and placed them on top of his right thigh, scooting himself forward, closer to her. When he was far enough that her knees could bend comfortably, he paused and looked at her, holding her eyes. "And I could smell you... Your perfume or shampoo...whatever it was... It was on my pillow and in my sheets...it surrounded me when I laid down that night..."

"I was there almost _every_ night, Booth."

Not quite believing what she was saying, he tilted his head. "Huh?"

"Yes. Every night but one." She rolled her lips between her teeth before slowly summarizing the events of the two weeks to him. "The second night is the only night I was at home... And that's only because Angela insisted on coming over to be with me. But I told her she didn't have to, that I was fine... I guess she knew I wasn't, even if I didn't want to admit it. But all the other nights, they all started out the same way... I would wait until everyone left the lab... I would keep working and ignoring everybody when they tried to get me to leave... But once they were gone, I would lock up my office and go to your apartment. And I would stand outside the door and tap... And wait..._just in case_... But when you didn't answer, I would take the key from the rock, let myself in and sleep there. And in the mornings, I would replace the key into your rock... And I would go to work." She took a sip of her smoothie, thankful for the cool, soothing sensation on her raw throat. "I think Ange figured out what was going on... She would see me come in, wearing the same things I'd been wearing the day before, and I would get a change of clothes from my duffle bag, shower in the ladies room and then start my day. On the third afternoon - that morning I'd used the last outfit in my bag - I came back into my office after everyone had finally gone home, and I found a shopping bag next to my desk with a few pairs of pants and shirts. I am certain Angela put them there."

"You were the one who did my dishes and cleaned out my fridge?" He ran his right hand along the smooth skin of her outer-thigh, not second-guessing the motion even once. "The FBI sent a couple of agents to my place during the day once, to collect my mail and bring me some clothes. I'd assumed they were the ones who cleaned out the food before it went bad..."

"I figured that if Rebecca was going to come to your apartment, or if Hank came over, I wanted it to be clean... I wanted it to be nice." She thought for a moment. "Not that you don't keep a nice apartment, don't get me wrong..."

He chuckled, the first comic relief of their discussion. "It's ok, Bones. I get it." His free hand found her's and he gripped her tightly, growing serious again. "Thank you. I'm sorry that you did that, and that you were going through hell when I thought you knew the truth... But I thank you for looking out for me." The silence stood between them for two, maybe three minutes, as the impact of her actions sunk in. When she started to shift in apparent embarrassment, he broke the tension. Through narrowed eyes, he studied her. "It was my Phillies shirt, wasn't it?"

"Huh?" She didn't know what he was talking about.

"You wore my Phillies shirt when you were there... Right?"

"I don't know... It... It had a green monster or creature on it... One with an abnormally long proboscis..."

He cracked a smile. "Yeah, that's the Philly Phanatic. He's the mascot for the Philadelphia Phillies." When she sat staring at him with a blank look, he nodded once and sighed. "A baseball team, Bones. In Philly..."

"Oh." She wasn't sure how he even knew what she had wore. She had carefully re-folded the shirt each morning and placed it into the drawer where she'd found it.

"That first night back, after you barged in on my bathroom and yelled at me, I pulled that shirt out to wear...and I could smell you. I told myself that I was imagining it, that your perfume was probably just hanging in the air after you stormed through my room... But that wasn't it... You had worn that shirt to bed..."

"If I knew you were going to come back, I would've taken it that last night I was there." She raised her nose a little as her lips pouted. "It was a very comfortable shirt..." She squared her shoulders. "Even if it did have an infantile cartoon character on the front."

"Infantile? _Cartoon_?" He recognized that she was needing to lighten the mood. "Nuh-uh, Bones. That's the Philly Phanatic! He's an icon!"

"It makes me question the intelligence level of those individuals from Philadelphia..." She was egging him on and she knew it. When he burst out laughing she simply smiled, glad for the lighter feel in their emotional conversation.

The pair settled into a comfortable silence as they watched seagulls vying for bread cubes that a child was scattering. They laughed when the aggressive birds got a little too close for the boy's comfort and he promptly threw the few pieces remaining in his hand before running back to his parents as fast as his little legs could take him, giggling all the way.

"Parks used it love feeding the birds when he was that age..." Booth felt nostalgic as the child's laughter filled the air. "I guess kids are all alike." He turned back to look at Brennan and noticed a far-away look in her eyes and a soft smile on her lips as she continued to look at the boy and his parents. Boldly running his hand along the outside of her leg again, he watched her for a moment before interrupting. "Hey," he leaned forward a little, tilting his head in an attempt to get her attention. When she blinked, seeming to have snapped out of her daydream, he smiled. "What were you thinking about?"

Brennan shifted her gaze twice between the small family and her partner, wondering if she should admit to her inner-thoughts or keep them private. Settling back on Booth's warm browns, she saw something reflecting back at her that she couldn't quite name, but that gave her complete comfort in speaking.

"I was just thinking about how different things might have been..." She watched him, wondering if he would pick up on her train of thought. "You know...if I had...proceeded with my plans back then..."

He knew instantly what she was talking about; it was a daydream that often invaded his thoughts whenever he saw a small child. Hell, he even thought about it when he was with Parker, and even more when they invited Brennan to come along for an outing, because she was so attentive to his son's needs and desires. He nodded, his fingers still moving against her skin, making nonsensical designs and figure-eights.

"I think about that sometimes..." He admitted, never before having told her he even remembered the plans they had made immediately prior to his brain surgery.

She was surprised, and it showed on her face. "You do?"

"Mm-hmm." His smile grew and he pulled his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose so he could look at her unfiltered. "You woulda been a great mom, Bones." Realizing he said that in the past tense, as if he no longer thought it to be true, he amended his declaration. "You _will _be an awesome Mom, y'know, when it happens. Your kid is gonna be so lucky."

Feeling a flush of heat spread through her body, she was suddenly speechless. A myriad of thoughts flooded her mind all at once. _If he remembered, why didn't he ever say anything? Was he still open to the idea of fathering a child for her? Did she miss her chance? Would he prefer making a baby the old-fashioned-way? _At that last thought, her stomach did a metaphorical summersault and the deep ache that she had been pushing down for years reared its head with a vengeance.

"I didn't know you remembered..." The words came out strangled, like she was fighting to control an emotion that she desperately wanted to restrain.

"Yeah. I remembered about three weeks after surgery, when some of my other memories started coming back... When I finally remembered that you and I were not married... That we were nothing more than friends..." As he recalled the painful time in his recent past, he ached, thinking about how gutted he was when he realized he'd missed his chance of having a baby with his Bones.

Sitting up straighter, she pulled her legs slightly back, but left them resting on his thigh, as she angled her body forward a little. "Why didn't you ever say anything, Booth? I thought you'd forgotten, and I was afraid to bring it up again, especially after Sweets told me about your coma-dream."

"I never said anything because I figured you changed your mind. I had a tumor... What if that gene was passed along to your baby?"

"The tumor you had is not necessarily hereditary, Booth. The chance that you would pass on that particular gene is so minimal," she searched for the right words that she knew Booth would understand. "You have a greater chance at winning the lottery than in fathering a child who would develop the same type of tumor..."

Booth sat stunned for a moment. "Are you sure?"

Brennan smiled, reassuring her partner. "I'm positive, Booth. You are a very healthy man with very desirable attributes… And I am certain you would father a strong child. Just as you did in Parker…"

Feeling relief from a weight Booth didn't even know he was carrying, he chuckled involuntarily. "Heh… I didn't know that, Bones." His smile grew into one of genuine appreciation. "Thanks."

Brennan nodded, happy to have provided some comfort to her partner. She enjoyed his smile; his handsome features were always striking to her when he laughed. Just as she started to build the nerve to ask if he would ever consider revisiting their long-dormant plans, a beach ball bounced its way onto the chair, settling between Booth's parted legs. She jumped with a start, not expecting the interruption as they both turned towards a flush-faced boy running to fetch his toy.

"Sorry!" The nine-or-ten year old child huffed heavily as he reached the partners.

"It's ok, kiddo," Booth tossed the ball to the boy. "There ya'go."

"Thanks!" He yelled over his shoulder as he ran back to where he and his friends had been playing, leaving the partners in silence once again.

"Whaddya say we take a dip, Bones? Cool off and then go find some grub?" He jerked his head towards the ocean, battling the desire to rinse off the stickiness caused by his run and his need to consume some sustenance. "I mean, the smoothie is good n'all, but I'm starving."

Rolling her eyes at his constant over-dramatization of his many stages of starvation, the anthropologist pulled her legs from their perch atop his strong thigh. "You're hardly starving, Booth. We had breakfast just over four hours ago and you ate several pieces of fruit in addition to drinking your smoothie…"

"That doesn't count. It's not real food." He smirked as he pushed up from the chair's foot-rest. "I want _food_."

"Fruit is most certainly 'real food', Booth. It's better food than the potato chips and honey-roasted-nuts you eat all the time!" She, too, pushed up from her seat, untying the sarong from around her torso, nonchalantly revealing her pale skin to her partner's gaze knowingly.

"You, ahh," he jerked his chin in the direction of her bag, where he'd seen his Fed Cases t-shirt when she was poking around for her sun block lotion. "You wanna put on your shirt? Don't wanna get burned, do you?"

"No, I don't want to put on the shirt, thanks." She stifled a grin and turned back to the table, grabbing the bottle of Coppertone. "But you can put this," she handed the bottle over her shoulder, "across my back and shoulders please…"

Glancing up at the heavens for help, Booth started reciting the Saints as he moved his hand across her silky skin, certain that he was paying penance for something still unknown.

**Postscript A/N**

**I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know your thoughts, it's the only way I know if my story is still enjoyable to readers, or if I'm pissing people off. I appreciate your feedback, both positive and/or *constructively* critical. If you want a reply, please be sure that you're signed in and that you can accept PMs. I try to reply when asked a direct question, but sometimes I run out of time in the day. Sorry if I didn't answer any questions that may have been posed. **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy **


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N. Hello and welcome! Thanks so much for coming back! Your patience is much appreciated as I edit this piece in between my increasingly busy work schedule. I swear, I think I have the best readers in all of fanfiction history!**

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing but this crazy-ass storyline!**

Booth and Brennan spent almost an hour in the ocean, enjoying the ebb and flow of the waves and gentle undertow while successfully navigating a comfortable conversation. When Booth's stomach growled loud enough that his partner heard it above the sound of the rolling waves, they agreed to make their way back up to the beach to dry off.

"What do you wanna do this afternoon, Bones?" Booth ruffled his hair with the towel Brennan had brought down to the beach for him, appreciative that she had the forethought that, not only would they reconcile their differences, but that he would end up needing it. "I know we were talking about heading outta town for a little while, you still want to do something like that?"

As the scientist tugged her towel back and forth across her back, she thought about their options. "Well," she turned and reached into the beach bag, extracting Booth's hockey shirt from the depths and pulled it over her head, completely missing the smug grin of approval her partner stifled. "There are several dining options within walking distance, if you want to leave the truck parked where it is... Then we won't have to fight for parking when we come back."

"Yeah," Booth pulled his own shirt back over his head, happy that he'd decided to wear it into the water for a quick rinse before draping it over the chair to dry for a while as they swam. "But what did you want to do after that? You still wanna go driving someplace?"

Twisting her mouth in thought, she eyed her partner carefully. "While you were out running, Marcus called upstairs..."

Not necessarily fond of his playboy-buddy calling his partner while he wasn't around, but fully aware that he had no right to stop her from talking to his former pseudo-partner, Booth bit his tongue and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her to get to the point. He didn't have to wait long.

"He invited us to go out on jetskis with him and several other agents. When I told him you were not available, he asked if I wanted to come along on my own. He said he would teach me how to ride, and that we could ride double... He promised that he wouldn't let me fall in..." She thought that by being upfront about her conversation with Marcus, she would put her partner's obvious alpha-male-jealousy at ease, but she immediately realized it didn't work when Booth cut her off.

"Yeah I'll bet he did," Booth grunted as he sat down, scowling while he pulled the socks from his shoes. "Fuckin' horn-dog..."

"Booth," she admonished as she sat down beside him, squeezing into the narrow space between his hips and the upward curve of the armrests. "He was being perfectly civil. And a gentleman."

"Bones," he paused from tying his shoelace to look up at her pointedly. "I promise you, there is _nothing_ gentleman-like about Marcus Gray. _Period_."

"He _sounded_ genuine..." She muttered aloud as she thought about the invitation he had extended, wondering if she was such a poor judge of character that she didn't understand the invitation.

"Well, sure he was genuine... He _genuinely_ wanted to get you onto a wave runner with him, where he'd be able to paw at you with an acceptable excuse..." When he saw her eyes flare in disbelief, he chuckled. "Don't look so surprised, Bones," he smiled and turned his attention back to his shoes, but paused in a sudden anxious panic. "Hang on a sec," he bolted upright in his seat. "You didn't go out there with him did you?"

Surprised at Booth's worried expression, and absolutely certain she was perfectly capable of reading _him_, even if she couldn't read other men, she placed her hand on his forearm. "Relax, Booth. I didn't go out there with them..." Brennan actually felt him calm beneath her touch and she glanced over towards the dock where she had seen their counterparts rent the personal watercrafts. "Although, it _did_ look fun..."

Studying the far-away look in her eyes, Booth felt himself softening. "You wanna go out on a waverunner? I'll take you."

Brennan smiled and spun her head in her partner's direction. "I was going to ask you about doing it after lunch. I didn't know if it was something you would enjoy or not..."

"_Enjoy it_? Hell yeah I'd enjoy it, Bones. I'm a guy..." He pushed up to his feet and extended his hand, wondering if she would accept his gesture. Grinning when he felt her cool, slim hand slide into his as she used his stability to pull herself up, he cocked his head sideways and flashed a Cheshire grin. "Men are just boys in larger bodies, y'know. We all like fast things that go vroom-vroom."

She laughed and dropped his hand, falling into step at his side as they left the beach. "Thank you for my dolphin cup," she bumped his shoulder playfully as they walked. "I like it."

"You're welcome, Bones." He looked at his own souvenir as they entered the elevator. "I figured Parker would like this one. He really likes the shark documentary series that you gave him for his birthday. I've lost track of how many times we've watched it."

B/B/B/B

Walking back towards the hotel after a leisurely lunch, Booth and Brennan stopped at a few kitschy shops along the way, just killing time and enjoying each other's company. As they arrived at their destination, Booth approached the concierge desk to see about renting a waverunner later that afternoon. Once the arrangements were made for the following hour, they found themselves back upstairs so they could once again prepare for the beach.

Booth was first to finish changing and he wandered over to Brennan's room to toss a couple water bottles into the beach bag. Flopping down onto the bed, he stretched his legs out in front of him and waited for her to come out from the bathroom. He flipped through an Anthropology Today magazine he found discarded on her nightstand and paused on an article about a cannibalistic South American tribe that was recently re-discovered after decades of speculation surrounding their disappearance. When he heard Brennan re-enter the room, he kept his eyes on the journal.

"So, Bones, don't plan on goin' to South America anytime soon... There's a tribe down there eatin' people..."

"Booth," she rolled her eyes at his interpretation of the article. "There's nothing of the sort happening down there..."

"There is, too!" He held the pages open showing her the images of shrunken heads and trophies made from tanned human skin. "Look at this!" He pulled the book back to his lap, shaking his head. "Nope, no way... Not letting you go anywhere near this place. _Ever_."

She deadpanned a look at him from across the room, daring him to ban her once more. When he continued to read to himself, she walked to the bag and pulled out the lotion, smearing it onto her face quickly. Allowing a few more minutes of silence to hang in the air as he made noises and grunts in response to the captions beneath the photos he was looking at, she finally interrupted his thoughts.

"I've already submitted my application to be one of the first anthropologists to study the Mano Massina tribe..." She kept her back to him as she applied her lotion, wanting to make sure she didn't burn any more than she already had earlier that day. As soon as she said the words, she felt the tension in the room escalate, and she waited for her partner's inevitable explosive eruption. It came quickly.

"You what?!" He tossed the magazine unceremoniously onto the unused side of the mattress. He approached her quickly, closing the short distance between them in only a few steps. "What do you mean you already submitted your application? Have you seen what they do to people?" He pointed blindly over his shoulder in the general direction of the article.

"Booth," she tried to remain calm, but it was obvious that Booth was not done ranting just yet.

"I mean, c'mon, Bones! You could be killed. There's so little known about these people, it said in there that no one really understands their customs or culture yet..." He fisted his hands on his hips and watched her in the mirror as she patiently covered her face with sunblock. "When did you apply? Why didn't you say anything? Bones you could get killed just for entering their territory!" He picked up the bottle and spread lotion across her shoulders nervously, agitated that his partner might up and run to South America at her earliest opportunity.

When the scientist realized that her partner was actually giving her a chance to answer, she looked up into his reflection. "Booth, I'm an _Anthropologist_. This is what I do... You _know_ that. It's no different than any other expedition I've attended to study various peoples." She tilted her head a little. "Traditionally speaking, cannibals eat other humans as part of a ceremony, whether it be post-battle or for religious reasons. Very, _very_ rarely do they attack unprovoked and just start eating people..." She rolled her eyes a little and shoved the bottle of lotion back into the bag. "You make it sound like I'm going to be asked for dinner when I arrive, only to find out that I'm the main course."

"What's to say that's not true?"

"Booth..." She turned finally, and faced him without the hindrance of a mirror to look into his eyes. "I am good at my job. You've never doubted my judgement before when planning to attend digs or excavations."

"That's because you were digging up dead people! Not mingling with the the local population that has a thirst for human blood!" Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, the agent bit his lip. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did!" She was deflecting, and she knew he would see through her ruse as she tried to move around him to grab her t-shirt.

"I don't mean _now_, Bones. I mean why didn't you tell me you were applying? We could have talked about it."

"There was nothing to talk about. It is an excellent opportunity and if I am selected, I will take advantage of the offer."

"Whaddya mean 'nothing to talk about'? You're planning to go to South America, to some God-forsaken region that probably doesn't even have electricity for who-knows-how-long to study a group of people who would rather see you on their dinner plates than at their tables." He was pacing the length of the room.

Huffing in frustration at her partner's overreaction, Brennan shook her head. "Look, Booth, we can talk about it if they offer me the position… They may not even want me."

"What? Who wouldn't want you?! You're a genius, Bones…" He threw his hand into the air. "They'd be fools not to want you…."

"Let's just," she held her hand up, "let's just burn that bridge if we cross it, ok? For now, we should just go down to the beach and you can teach me how to drive a jetski." She pinned him with an unwavering stare and waited, daring him to challenge her decision making abilities once more. She shifted her weight, tilting her hip as she waited for him to calm down, also knowing he couldn't resist an opportunity to teach her how to do something.

Raising one side of his mouth, Booth stepped a little closer, looking at her with adoration. "_Cross_ that bridge when we _come_ to it, Bones."

"Huh?"

"The phrase is '_cross_ that bridge', not '_burn_ that bridge...' That's something _entirely_ different." He couldn't help but laugh as he felt himself fall a little harder for his nerdy partner.

"Oh, right." Brennan catalogued the phrase for future use and shrugged. She learned long ago that she didn't need to be embarrassed around Booth when she got a colloquialism wrong, because, unlike so many others she had encountered in her life, he wouldn't tease her maliciously about it. He might have a good laugh, but she knew he didn't mean her any harm. She grinned. "Anyway, do you want to teach me how to drive one of those things or not?"

Chuckling, Booth grabbed the beach bag and nodded. "Damn right, I do," he threw his arm loosely across her shoulders, guiding her towards her door, silently vowing to revisit, at a later time, the topic of her traipsing down to South America unprotected. "C'mon, our reservations are in twenty minutes."

B/B/B/B

"Ok, Bones," Booth tossed their bag into a locker and watched as Brennan pulled her shirt over her head to stow it for the next hour. "You wanna drive first and I'll talk you through it, or you wanna sit behind me and watch while I drive?"

Glancing at the dock where several watercrafts sat bobbing up and down with the movement of the waves, she considered her options. "You drive first. I'll watch and get a feel for what you're doing. Then try it in a little while."

"You got it," he placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her around. "Let's go, the clock's tickin' and we don't wanna miss out on any fun."

Brennan felt her pulse increase in anticipation as they stepped onto the dock and approached Slip Four, where their assigned jetski sat waiting for them. She had often wondered about riding one. When she spent those weeks with Angela at the beach for the artist's retreat, they had talked about renting one, but between the planned activities and the constant flow of alcohol, they never quite got around to it. Now, though, she was kind of happy that she was going to experience it for the first time with Booth. There was something personal, a feeling that her mind translated as _intimate_, to be sharing an activity like this with her partner. When they reached their destination, they accepted the outstretched life vests from the attendant who had taken their sizes at the dive shop while they filled out the legal forms allowing them to borrow the motorized craft.

"I am quite a proficient swimmer," Brennan wrinkled her brow at the young man. "Besides, isn't the point of riding one of these that you _don't_ go into the water?"

Before the boy could answer, Booth chuckled and took her vest from Skippy, moving behind where she stood and started slipping her arms into their corresponding holes. "You gotta wear it, Bones. There is always a chance that you can fall off the vehicle and with the ocean currents you don't wanna take any chances." He reached around her from behind, clipping the latches in place. "Did you even read what you just signed back there?"

Allowing her partner to manhandle her as necessary, she shook her head to the negative. "No." She looked down at herself, checking the locks Booth had just fastened. "I just signed where you told me to. I knew you wouldn't misguide me." When her blue eyes raised back to meet his darker gaze, she just smiled. "Besides, if I didn't sign, I know I wouldn't be allowed to come with you."

Shaking his head at her utter faith in him and his directions, he agreed. "You're right. No signature, no ride." He extended his arm toward their craft moving her towards it while nodding a dismissal to the employee observing their interaction. "I got it from here, thanks, Skippy."

"Ok, Mr. Booth. Just signal to us if you need anything." The young man was confident that his slightly intimidating customer was perfectly capable of handling the machine. His experience working at the dive shop over the previous five summers had taught him how to spot an able body from a novice. There was no doubt in his mind that Mr. Booth from room 927 was more than able. He watched as his customers moved further away from him and Booth gave direction to Brennan before he moved back down the dock. "Have fun!" He called over his shoulder as he left, checking his watch and returning to his window to await his next scheduled customer.

B/B/B/B

"Alright, now, I'm gonna sit there, and you'll climb on once I'm seated. That's your seat," he pointed to the back seat position. "I'll help you on, don't worry."

"I'm not worried," she studied the machine, admiring the slick lines of the model. "Is this a good brand?"

"Yeah," Booth responded as he threw his leg over his seat and scooted forward, ensuring enough room was behind him for his partner. "Yamaha makes some of the best." He held his hand out to her so she could move into place, swallowing thickly as he felt her long legs straddle his hips from behind. Once she was done shifting into a comfortable position, he glanced backwards over his shoulder. "You ready?"

"Yes." She sounded sure, but felt a little wave of anxiety sweep over her body.

"Ok. You need to hold on tight, Bones. I don't plan on losing you off the back there, but if a particularly strong wave surprises us, I want you to stay on." He felt her nod, but still didn't feel her arms move. "That means you need to hold on to me, Bones. Not the sides of your seat..."

"Oh, right." She inhaled sharply, remembering how close she had seen Marcus and Perotta sitting while they were riding doubles. A slight flutter of her heart reinforced her belief that she had made the right decision in not riding with Marcus, choosing instead to wait until she could be with Booth. Sliding her hands around his waist, surprised at how much extra thickness the relatively thin life jacket added to his girth, Brennan wrapped her arms around his body, snuggling up against his back and closing off any distance that had remained between them.

Glancing down at where his partner's hands now gripped the front straps of his life jacket, he smirked at the feel of her pressed against him. He wished they didn't have the barrier of the vests separating them, but would never endanger her safety by allowing her to ride without one. He turned his head to the side and awkwardly looked over his shoulder.

"Ready now?"

"Yes," she said as she propped her chin on his shoulder, her nose coming very close to his cheek as he tried to look at her. Smiling at his handsome features as he turned away and started the engine, she swept her eyes forward and came to realize she was barely able to see the controls. Immediately knowing that she wouldn't be able to learn anything while sitting behind her partner's wide frame, she sighed and decided to simply enjoy the ride. When the time came for them to switch positions, he would simply have to walk her through the motions... Something told her that he wouldn't mind.

The scientist was surprised at the speeds they could reach on the relatively small transport and she thoroughly enjoyed the ride as Booth took them out beyond the swimming area and ran parallel to the beach. She laughed as they crashed through waves and squealed whenever Booth would turn them around quickly, racing off in a different direction.

Booth had always enjoyed piloting Personal Watercraft Units, but on that particular day, he was gaining more enjoyment from listening to his partner than from the ride itself. He loved her laugh; that chesty, alto pitch that seemed to rise and fall like the waves they were riding was like music to his ears. And when he told her to hold tight just before spinning into their first donut, he was surprised to hear the joyful yelp that erupted from her throat and continued to do so every time he would spin them in place. After about twenty minutes, the agent slowed their pace, eventually allowing the engine to idle.

"You wanna try to drive?" He called out, making sure he was loud enough for her to hear.

"Yes!" She didn't even try to contain her excitement. "But I haven't been able to watch the controls, so I don't know what you're doing up there. The added material of the life vest adds a considerable amount of breadth and height to the expanse of your acromion."

"You're diggin' my wide shoulders, is that what you're saying?" He grinned and killed the engine, allowing them to bob up and down with the current.

"I never said anything about digging your anything." She denied the accusation, understanding his joke immediately, though she would be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying the feeling of closeness. So she remained quiet on the subject.

Booth smirked, "whatever you gotta tell yourself, Bones." He laughed and pulled the key from the ignition. Reaching down to her hands, he slid the bracelet onto her right wrist. "Don't lose that," he ordered her, "I'll be right back." Without further delay, he stood up.

"Wha-? Where are you go-" Brennan couldn't even get her question out before Booth took a dive off the side of their jetski, bobbing back up immediately, courtesy of his life vest. "Booth! What are you doing?!"

He smiled up at her, noting the combination of concern and misunderstanding written on her face. "I'm gunna let you drive, Bones. But you need to sit up there for that," he pointed to the front of the seat. "So, you go ahead and scoot up and I'll pull up behind you." He watched as the familiar "v" formed between her eyebrows, but she followed his direction and moved into position. Booth swam around to the back of the watercraft and hauled himself out of the water and up onto the compact platform. Shaking his head playfully, he splashed her with water as he slid onto the seat.

"Booth!" She ducked in unsuspecting surprise at the dousing. Once she felt him settle behind her, his strong, now-wet thighs fitting snugly around her hips, she looked at him over her shoulder. "You didn't need to jump in, Booth. I am very limber, you know. I could have easily maneuvered around you while you remained in place."

"Yeah," his mind was flooded instantly with images of his partner using his body for stability as she changed positions, rubbing parts of her body against his as she moved and undoubtedly bringing on a feverish pitch of frustration on his part. "That's what I was afraid of."

"Huh?" She didn't understand what he was talking about.

"Nothin', Bones. I just didn't want you standing up and moving around in case we caught a wave." He brushed off his distraction and tried to focus on the task at hand. "Now listen," he scooted close, chuckling when she jumped in surprise at being surrounded by his wet legs. "You need to keep the key ring wrapped around your wrist, even while we're in motion." Predicting her next question, he just kept talking. "If you get thrown off the machine by a wave, it'll pop the key out of the ignition, so we don't have a runaway wave runner on our hands."

"Oh," she nodded, understanding the purpose behind the coiled, stretchy band he'd slipped over her hand.

After a brief but detailed explanation of how to drive the pwc, the partners were soon on their way, running parallel to the beach. Brennan was driving a little slower than she really wanted to, but still not completely comfortable with the controls, she opted to err on the side of caution versus recklessness. As she became more accustomed to the controls and the gears, their pace increased until, without warning, Booth release his vice-like hold of her waist and reached forward, turning the power off.

"Booth!" Brennan started to complain, but then saw her partner's other hand release its grip and point to something further out in the distance.

"Watch," is all he said, dropping the hand that he killed the ignition back down, resting it on her thigh gently as he continued pointing with his other. "Right about there," he indicated a general direction he wanted her to look.

Silently she waited, not knowing what her partner saw, but certain it would be exciting it if caused him to stop their forward motion.

"Wait for it..." His voice was a little softer now, his mouth just behind her ear.

"What am I waiting fo-" she started to ask and then she saw it. A fin cleared the surface of the water at, as she estimated, no more than two and a half meters away. As quickly as it rose, it disappeared beneath the wave once again. She gasped quietly. "Booth... Was that..."

"Wait," he shushed her, still pointing, his other hand flexing against the smooth skin of her leg. Just as he spoke, a second, closely followed by a third fin surfaced and dove again. He could practically feel the excitement vibrating from his partner's body. He held her safe as she tried to surge forward in her seat, as if she planned to push to her feet and dive into the ocean with their company. Before he could speak again, a fourth, much smaller fin popped up, barely the tip visible to their study. "There... That's the one I first spotted," he grinned. "I think it's a family pod, Bones. I think that is a baby..."

"Oh my God, Booth. They're wild dolphins!" She squealed uncharacteristically, as if the realization of what they were watching had finally struck home. "Look!" She called out, pointing to the leader who had resurfaced some distance away.

The intercom communicator on the control panel of the jetski buzzed and a clip of static was quickly replaced by a familiar voice from the dive shop. "That's a resident pod, Mr. Booth," Skippy advised to his customers. When he saw them stop abruptly, he watched from the dock, ensuring they were alright, and immediately realized what Booth was pointing to. "They're used to the watercrafts. You can even follow along with them for a bit, just don't try to divide the pack because there's a little one somewhere in there."

Booth reached around his partner to press the communicator button. "Awesome, thanks Skip." He said nothing more to the young man but nudged his partner's shoulder from behind. "Wanna follow along with 'em, Bones?"

"Yes!" There was no hesitation in her voice, but she felt a wave of uncertainty that she had the skills to keep up the necessary pace or calculate the strength of oncoming waves enough to navigate them safely on course.

Knowing his partner wasn't ready for this kind of game, Booth just grinned. He scooted forward as much as possible, encouraging her to slide as far to the front of the cushioned seat as possible. He was crushed up against her and his thighs pressed in around her hips. "Gimme the key," he started pulling the band from her arm before she could even think and he slid it onto his own wrist, inserting it into its keyhole and cranking it over with a seamless flow. "Hold on," is all he said as he revved the engine and threw it into gear, giving chase to their focus, which had, by then, gained quite a head start.

With a quiet yelp, Brennan's hands flew down to Booth's legs where she wrapped her fingers around the outside of his lower thighs, just above his knees, and held onto him firmly. After just a few minutes, the partners had caught up to the pod and trailed them at a safe distance, careful to keep behind the final animal in the pack. Brennan's senses felt overloaded. She was excited about the animals, only ever having swum with captive dolphins in a controlled environment. And while she was overjoyed at being so close to the wild animals that she loved, a trait she had in common with her mother, her thoughts were wonderfully preoccupied with the realization that her partner's hard body was pressed against her from behind, keeping her secure in her seat as she filled the void created by the open 'v' of Booth's thighs. Not wanting to over-think things, she simply laughed, enjoying the sights of the surfacing dolphins and the close proximity of her very own Special Agent as they bounced along the waves.

B/B/B/B

Well past their due-time, Booth pulled the wave runner into its slip at the dock, knowing full well that he would probably have to pay additional money for having stayed out longer than they had reserved, but not caring because if he thought he could make Brennan laugh like that all day, he would have taken that personal watercraft clear up the coast and back. He loved hearing her laugh, feeling her strong hands holding on to him and having her snugged between his limbs. Hell, somewhere in the back of his mind he was even considering the possibility of purchasing just such a water toy for future use; for the sole purpose of getting her back out on the water again. But he knew that was just a fleeting fantasy, as there was no practical use for a jetski in DC, though it didn't stop his mind from wandering.

Once the vehicle was secured, he held Brennan's hand as she stepped over the seat and mounted the stairs, and he followed closely. When Skippy approached them, Booth smirked and shucked off the life jacket, waiting to be told off by the young manager. To his surprise, though, they were greeted with a smile.

"Betcha don't get to see wild dolphins everyday, huh?"

Brennan shook her head animatedly as Booth voiced their answer.

"Nope, we sure don't. First time for me," he turned to Brennan, "what about you, Bones?"

"First time for me, too!" Her eyes were alight with excitement and eagerness. "I can't wait to tell Angela!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry we were out there so long." Booth shrugged one shoulder. "You can just charge the extra time to my room, right?"

Skippy grinned and glanced around, not finding anyone. "Don't worry about it. I woulda felt bad for you to miss out on them. It's not like anyone was waiting for your machine, anyway. It's all good." He extended his hand to Booth. "Just, tell your friends about us, ok?" Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Well, don't tell them I let you stay out there for an extra forty minutes, though, huh?"

Booth's face broke out in a broad grin. "Thanks, man. You bet. I'm sure we'll be telling everyone what a great time we had." They bid the young man a good day and Booth placed his hand loosely on Brennan's back, directing her towards the lockers. "C'mon, Bones. Let's get our things."

As she stood beside her partner, watching as he fished the keys from the depths of the Velcro-enclosed pocket, the scientist felt an overwhelming surge of emotion. When he pulled out their bag and plopped it unceremoniously onto a bench before digging his hand in and extracting his own shirt, she murmured his name.

"Booth." It was scarcely more than a whisper and when he turned to look at her, his eyebrow cocked in question, she simply leaned forward, landing safely against his strong torso, wrapping her arms around his waist. She fanned her fingers out wide across his lower back and pressed her cheek to his chest. "Thank you."

Not certain what had brought on his partner's sudden display of affection, but certainly not complaining, Booth let the shirt drop from his fingertips and immediately engulfed His Bones, holding her close. Taking just a moment to nuzzle his nose against her knotted ponytail, he shifted so his cheek could rest against the top of her head. "For what?" He questioned her gratitude, not sure exactly what she was thanking him for.

"For taking me out on the jetski. And for the dolphins." She swept her hands up his back, enjoying the smooth texture of his masculine skin, until they settled on his scapulae. "They were beautiful."

Booth chuckled, both at the ticklish sensation of her dancing fingertips as well as at the notion that he had anything whatsoever to do with the wild animals. "Well, you know, Bones, I'm glad you had fun, but it's not like I had any control over the dolphins." In his mind, the agent decided immediately, that if he could adopt a superpower, he would undoubtedly choose a 'Dr. Doolittle ability' to be able to summon up whatever critter his partner's heart desired, if only to evoke this type of handsy-response. "It was pretty awesome, though, wasn't it?" He smoothed his hands down her spine until they came to rest on his favorite spot at the small of her back.

"Mm-hmm," she mumbled in response. Finally pulling back, just enough to crane her head to look up at him, but not loosening her hold on his pleasantly-symmetrical-acromia, she smiled. "I know you didn't control the presence of the animals, Booth," she laughed. "But you did make it possible to follow along with them for quite a while. I really enjoyed watching them play like that. They are such carefree, yet family-oriented animals. They are amazing."

As Booth watched the memories replay behind her eyes and in her smile, he felt his heart rate increase, and his breathing practically came to a screeching halt. She was more beautiful in that instant than he had ever seen her. Windblown, flushed and sun-kissed; happy...This look suited his partner in a way he couldn't even fathom, he didn't have the words to describe how she made him feel in that moment. Extending his thumbs upward, he grazed a sliver of bare skin on each side, where her bathingsuit cutaways teased him.

"Let me take you on a date tonight, Bones." He hadn't pre-planned to ask her like this, so abruptly, but he needed to take action to move their relationship forward, otherwise he was afraid he would explode. He watched as her eyes refocused away from her memories of their excursion and she processed his request. "Nothin' fancy, Bones. But it'll be fun, I promise."

"A date?" She wasn't certain she had heard him right, she had been lost in her own thoughts of his arms around her and the feel of his hard, shirtless torso pressed against her body. "As in a real-date?"

"Yeah," he raised one side of his lips, curling it into a half-charm smile. "Please?"

Her body thrummed immediately; simultaneous excitement at her partner's unexpected, yet timely request battled against the ever-present fear that she would mess something up and chase him away for good. She took a slow, deep breath, filling her lungs with a delightful combination of ocean breeze and Booth, and looked into his warm, chocolatey eyes. A sense of calm settled her fraying nerves.

"Okay." She watched as her answer was processed by his neurotransmitters and his half-grin slowly grew into the brilliant, full-wattage-Booth-smile that she had fallen in love with long before she would ever admit, even to herself. While she had no idea what he might have planned for their evening, she had no doubt that he would make good on his promise of fun.

**Postscript A/N**

**Well it's about time Booth stepped up and asked her!**

**I wonder where he will take her? Well, wherever it is, let's just hope that it all goes well and they don't argue and that no dead bodies interrupt, etc... *fingers crossed*!**

**peace &amp; love, my friends,**

**~jazzy**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N**

**Hello and welcome back!**

**Thanks for coming back for the next installment of my little tale.**

**My 'date' chapter was intended to me only one, but JazzyMuse rearranged the original plan, which resulted in adding another activity besides dinner. *Bad JazzyMuse***

**In response to "Guest's" review, I wish you had signed in, so I could reply. Your dislike of the previous chapter, or specifically Brennan's lack of experiences, is actually addressed in this chapter, as it was written into the outline. Initially the conversation was intended to happen before the end of last chapter, but there simply was no room for it; it would have created a much-too-long chapter. I wish you had allowed me to reply directly, but I'm hoping you came back to continue the story, because if I read correctly, you seemed relatively happy with most of the fic. **

**I apologize for any typos in this fic... I did the final edit on my iPad rather than my computer. I am have computer problems and had to resort to using just the pad... It didn't really save a lot of the font choices that I tried to use and seemed quite a bit touchier than my normal computer. So, I'm sorry if something here doesn't make sense. **

**Sadly, I don't own and rights to Bones… If I did… oh my... the delicious things they would do. *yummy* LMAO**

Booth stood on his balcony talking on the phone to Parker while waiting for Brennan to finish getting ready for their first official date. When he heard movement behind him, the agent turned to find his partner stepping through the open sliding glass door. Smiling, Booth simultaneously admired his date while he listened to his son prattle on about his friend's birthday party. Brennan was wearing an outfit very similar to the one she'd been wearing that morning, reminiscent of his first celebrity crush, Mary Tyler Moore's character Laura Petrie. Brennan's fitted Capri pants and capped-sleeve, button down shirt complimented her figure well and Booth had to force his eyes upward to meet her pale blues. Seeing the satisfied smile spreading across her lips, he knew she appreciated the low whistle that had escaped his lips subconsciously.

Brennan expected Booth's approval of her choice of costume, outfit, she reminded herself, but he actually seemed at a loss for words. She could hear Parker's youthful voice coming through the phone, and when her partner failed to answer his question, the boy's volume increased.

"_DAAAAAD! Are you listening to me?!_"

Booth chuckled at his own distraction, now realizing that he didn't hear a thing his boy said since Brennan walked onto the balcony to stand beside him, and he blushed in spite of himself and his attempt at a 'cool' exterior. "Yeah, sorry, Bub. Bones just came out," he deflected from not hearing the question he was expected to answer. "You wanna say hi?"

"Yeah!" Parker was always excited to talk to Brennan and although he didn't fully understand what had happened after his dad came back from Afghanistan and Brennan stopped spending time with them for a while, he was over the moon now that his idol seemed to be making a comeback into his life, stronger than ever. "Hi, Bones!" He exclaimed when she greeted him.

"Hello, Parker," the scientist always melted a little when Parker's excitement to see or speak to her was so transparent. She never considered herself to be good with children, but the younger version of her partner had always made her feel normal. "How was your party?"

Booth watched Brennan's facial expressions as she listened to the re-telling of the excitement, childhood-drama and fun that unfolded at the birthday party earlier that afternoon. He studied her profile, admiring the natural paleness of her skin and cursing the strong UV rays for burning her cheeks and nose earlier that day. He noticed she had toned down the rosiness with makeup, but he knew that, at the very least, her nose would peel once all was said and done. His eyes drifted down, following the graceful curve of her neck and shoulder as she watched a group of beach goers leaving the hotel, walking across the patio towards the sand. Booth loved that she conversed with his son, asking him questions to clarify things she didn't understand whenever he talked about various games or pre-adolescent terminology that she didn't recognize. The scientist must have felt his eyes on her, because she turned and looked at him, smiling knowingly as he closed the distance between them ever so slightly with a gentle lean her way.

"Well, I'm glad you had a good time, Parks," she said with a smile while looking at the boy's father. The dark look in Booth's eyes caused her stomach to quiver unexpectedly and she couldn't stop the mounting excitement that was swelling in anticipation for their date. "Yes, we are. Oh! We saw dolphins today," she answered a question unheard by Booth and became animated as she described their encounter with the small family of wild dolphins. "Aww, I'm sorry, Parker, no, I didn't have my waterproof camera with me." She nodded despite the fact that the boy couldn't see her. "Yes, next time I will have to remember it." She laughed and tilted her head to the side, looking at Booth again. "Well I think your father wants to say good night before we hang up, so I'll hand the phone back over to him." She listened to one more charming attempt by Parker Booth to stay on the phone a little longer, but in the background she also heard Rebecca telling him that he needed to hang up and go take his bath. "Ok, Parker, you better go. Hold on, okay?" She smiled at the affection coming through the phone from the miniature version of the man standing beside her. "I love you, too." Heat filled her cheeks as she said the words to the little boy who was like family to her, while looking into the warmth of Booth's dark brown irises. "Good night, Parks."

Booth didn't even try to stifle the full-wattage grin that broke free as he listened to his partner, who claimed to not believe in love, yet always told his son that she loved him before ending their phone conversations. The fact that she was looking directly at him when she said it didn't go unnoticed, but he knew they were still several conversations away from hearing her say those words to him, though he silently vowed to himself that he would hear them. He accepted the phone as she handed it to him and winked playfully, knowing that his attention to her was embarrassing her. Just as he readied to bid a good night to his son, she slapped his arm and turned to look down at the beach. "Ow!" He cringed playfully while still grinning at her.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Parker has heard his father's quiet exclamation.

"Ah, nothin', Parks, sorry. Bones just slapped me for no reason, that's all." He burst out laughing as both Brennan and Parker simultaneously discounted his statement.

"I always have a reason for everything I do!" She rolled her eyes teasingly.

"Bones never does anything without a reason, Dad," Parker huffed. "Whatever you did, you prob'ly deserved it."

"What?! She has you snowballed, Parker... Bones has an evil side, you know."

"Watch out, Dad. She's gunna beat you up." Parker laughed, imagining his father and Brennan flashing familiar grins at each other, just like they used to. Unbeknownst to the child, Brennan did, in fact, pull back and slap him back-handed on the shoulder, but in doing so, actually leaned slightly closer to her partner.

"Ok, kiddo, I'll behave...I don't want Bones to get violent. She could seriously hurt your old man." He chuckled and leaned his shoulder against hers as he eyed her sideways. "You better go get your bath for school tomorrow. Only one more week of school left, huh?"

"Yep!" He was obviously excited for summer vacation. "I can't wait till we go camping this summer, Dad!"

"Yeah, it'll be fun. But hey," he watched people moving around far below their balcony, "you better get going, you don't wanna make your mom upset. We'll discuss camping plans another time, m'kay?"

"Yeah, ok." Parker was deflated. His dad knew him too well, recognizing when he was going to try to segue into another topic of conversation, just to prolong his time talking on the phone. "G'night, Dad."

"Love ya, Buddy. Have a good day tomorrow."

"Love you too. And Bones too, tell her again for me."

Chuckling once again, Booth agreed. "You gotta deal, Bub. Night."

When Booth heard the phone disconnect on his son's end, he locked his screen and continued leaning on the balcony railing alongside his partner. "Parker said to tell you again," he turned his head to the side so he could watch her inevitably shy response. "He loves you."

Like every other time that one of the Booth boys showed her affection, her face heated with a now-familiar and welcome flush. She avoided his eye contact for a few seconds, choosing to focus on the crashing waves of the Atlantic. Finally she let a gentle laugh escape and looked at him. "He is a sweet boy, Booth."

"Yeah," Booth thought about his son and how warm he was towards Brennan. Parker had taken to her ever since the first time he met her, something he had never done with any of Booth's girlfriends. "He's a good kid. I guess I'm pretty lucky."

Seeing an opportunity to bestow a little of her own admiration on him, Brennan curled her lips. "He's just like you."

Warming at her compliment, Booth laughed. "Oh, God, I'm in trouble if he's just like me." He pushed up from where he was leaning on the railing as he thought about his many indiscretions as a youth. He could only hope that he was raising his son to have more smarts that he had. The agent cocked his head sideways, "c'mon, Bones. You ready?"

"Yes," she was a little confused about his statement. "I'm ready, but why are you in trouble?" She allowed her partner to gently push her through the open slider and waited while he locked it. "I don't know what that means..." Her words faded away as they moved.

"Nothin', Bones. I'm just joking." He continued to usher her towards the door, anxious to get their date underway.

"Oh..." Brennan didn't understand the humor in his statement, but let it go. She was accustomed to not getting jokes and tended to revisit them at a later time for explanations, and she was pretty certain she would do that in this case as well. "Where are we going, anyway?" She grabbed her compact wallet and slipped it into her pocket, not wanting to carry her bag if they were going to be walking.

"Well, first," he pulled the door shut and reached across to check the door for her room, making sure it was secure before they left. "We are going to the elevators and riding down."

Brennan eyed him suspiciously then chuckled. "Well, I assumed that much, Booth. Thank you for your detailed explanation; I don't know what I'd do without your attention to details."

"Good job," he joked. "You're finally getting the knack of sarcasm, Bones."

B/B/B/B

The scientist smiled into the wind as she sat on the edge of the seat closest to the water. Still in the metaphorical dark about their ultimate destination, her excitement built as they climbed aboard the water-taxi boat and slid onto an empty seat. The bench seats were relatively small, forcing the to sit close together, but when she felt Booth slide his arm across the back of the seat, essentially draping it around her shoulders, she simply leaned against him and watched the passing waves intently. She was hoping for another glimpse of a wild dolphin, but realized that the chances were so slim they were nearly incalculable. But the rational, lecturing scientist in her mind didn't stop the curious woman as her pale eyes skimmed the surface for any signs of marine life.

Booth looked around, his ever-observant eyes taking note of the other passengers on the boat as well as their surroundings. There were a couple of faces he recognized from the convention, but no one he knew personally. He nodded politely and received acknowledgements in return, but the other passengers were unfamiliar to him. His fingers occasionally swept the soft skin of Brennan's upper arm, tracing designs absentmindedly. He could feel her excitement radiating and he had to admit to himself that he, too, was affected by the fact that they were finally doing this. It might be only the first step in a very long process as they moved towards the personal relationship he wanted, but at least they were doing it. He crowded in a little, keeping his lips slightly behind her ear as she faced away from him, still watching and studying the ocean swells.

"See anything out there?" He knew the answer, but he wanted to talk to her, and the topic didn't really matter.

"Not yet." She seemed to slouch a little in defeat, but it was expected. "The likelihood of seeing them again is very slim." She finally turned to look at him, coming almost nose-to-nose when she moved. Laughing at their sudden proximity, she looked down in uncharacteristic shyness. "But it would have been really special to see them..."

"Yeah," he shifted just enough so his arm settled against her more that it did on the seat. "Well, it's still early in the week. There's still a chance you'll see them again." He grinned when her smile brightened before she turned back towards the water. "Maybe we'll have time to go riding again before we go home."

She nodded, still looking away but listening to the rich timbre of his voice and silently wishing he would keep talking, not caring what he said. The boat slowed, drawing her attention towards the shore and she laughed out loud when she saw the giant Ferris Wheel. Looking into Booth's warm eyes, she nudged him with her shoulder. "A carnival?"

Throwing his head back with a bark of a laugh. "No, Bones. It's a boardwalk. Not a carnival."

Immediately concerned about their most recent visit to a boardwalk, Brennan shifted in her seat so she faced her partner. "No gambling, Booth."

"No," he assured her and tightened his arm around her even more while, feeling like a teen on the most important date in his life, he smugly congratulating himself for his smooth moves. "It's not that kinda Boardwalk. This is more like a smaller version of the boardwalk Pops and Grams used to take me and my brother when we were kids. It'll be fun." He winked at her when she seemed to accept his promise and they both turned to watch as the water taxi pulled into its assigned slip at a well-worn dock. As they disembarked, he placed his wide hand on the small of her back, following her up the incline. "You ever go to a game boardwalk, Bones?"

Looking around at the mass of people milling around in organized chaos, Brennan shook her head. "No. But I've seen them on TV. And I've read about them." She looked up at him when they reached the top of the ramp and he stepped alongside her. "That time we had to go to the Jersey Shore I thought perhaps we would go play games. But you seemed in a hurry to leave, so I never said anything."

He laughed. "I was in a hurry to leave before you managed to get us in the middle of a brawl by trying to study the locals like they were a lost tribe of sorts." He thought back to the way his partner had gotten sucked up into the faux-reality of the Jersey Shore series, thinking it was a documentary. "That show was all fake, y'know," he bumped her shoulder.

Feeling a rise of heat spread across her cheeks, she recalled the conversation she and Angela had concerning her obsession with the so-called reality show. "Well, they shouldn't market something as 'reality' if it's scripted. It's misleading." She raised her nose defiantly, ignoring his chesty chuckles. "I can't imagine I am the only person to've gotten pulled into their artificial world due to false advertising."

"Nope," he threw his arm across her shoulders loosely, tugging her closer. "You sure aren't, Bones. That's for damn sure." Not wanting to make her feel bad about her hidden weakness for pop-culture, something she vehemently denied, he let it drop, changing the subject immediately. "You wanna eat first?"

She eyed the crowds milling around them, listening to the cacophony of noises creating the festive atmosphere. She could smell popcorn, and sweets, and a medley of other flavors she couldn't immediately name, though she was certain the majority of the scents were stemming from unhealthy choices of fare commonly referred to as Fair-Food. Weighing her options, and knowing that her partner would acquiesce to whatever she desired, she smiled.

"I think we'd better eat first. Otherwise we will be tempted to snack, and that will ruin our appetites." Quickly rethinking her argument, she amended her statement. "Well... It would ruin my appetite... I don't think anything ruins your appetite."

Barking out a small laugh, Booth guided her away from the crowd. "That's a lie, and you know it, Bones. There are plenty of things that ruin my appetite."

"Name one," she challenged playfully.

"That time in Washington when you talked about eating human flesh while I was trying to enjoy breakfast... I couldn't even eat my steak." He pouted teasingly and looked at her from the corner of his eye. "And you had the nerve to try to spoon-feed me your cornflakes..."

"Cornflakes were a healthy alternative to not eating at all," she ignored his pout. "Besides that was early on in our partnership. You are not bothered like that anymore."

"Not true. Just last week you were lecturing me about preservatives in my food and what they're doing to my body... Specifically to certain anatomical parts of my body..."

"I'm just watching out for your health, Booth. If I don't do it, who will?" She let herself lean into him slightly, feeling completely at ease with their contact and filing that comfort in the back of her mind as evidence for when that time finally arrived for her to come forward with her decision about expanding her relationship with her best friend.

"Point is, Bones," he wrapped his forearm tighter around her neck until he could speak against her cheek, "there are, in fact, instances in which my eating habits are altered."

She chuckled, his warm be breath tickling her ear. "Point taken." They stopped at a crosswalk that would lead them away from the Boardwalk, and waited for the light to change. "Where are we going? I thought we were going to get something to eat?"

"We are." He dropped his arm from her shoulder and grabbed her hand instead, tugging her as soon as the indicator allowed them to cross safely. "C'mon. There's a little place just a couple blocks off the main strip. It sounded really good when I read about 'em."

Excited that her partner had obviously done a little research in preparation for tonight, Brennan didn't bother to hide her smile. "What kind of place?"

"You hate surprises, don't you?" He laughed at her impatience and slowed their walking pace once they were back on the sidewalk. But he didn't release her hand. The Special Agent had decided that, in case this turned out to be the only opportunity he ever had to take his partner on a real date, he would pull out all the stops and pour on the charm, just thick enough for her to realize that he was serious about wanting a relationship. He wouldn't over-do it, and he wouldn't make any advances unless he had a clear and welcome signal, but he'd be damned if he didn't, at the very least, give her a healthy dose of Date-Booth-Charm.

"What? No! I love surprises... Why would you say that?"

Booth laughed that his partner had the nerve to look appalled at his accusation. "Because you can't even wait for the next few minutes to find out where we're gonna eat." They'd reached the end of the block by then, and stood across from a quaint cafe. The tiny, stark white building popped amidst its historic surroundings, courtesy of the bright blue trim that matched the blue and white curtains in the windows. He paused their movements, glancing up and down the road for traffic before nodding towards their destination. "How about Greek tonight?"

Brennan's lips curled in appreciation of Booth's choice of dining. She allowed him to tug her forward, trotting happily alongside his confident, much longer stride as they crossed the sidestreet. "It smells wonderful," she grinned and entered the restaurant when he held the door open for her. Somewhere in her subconscious, she recognized the telltale signs of Booth's date-like mannerisms, knowing he was attempting to charm her more than usual. Despite her near-constant need for equality and her desire to be completely self-sufficient, she silently admitted to herself that she was enjoying the attention he was doting on her.

"Hello. Welcome to Opa!" A young, dark haired woman greeted them with a warm smile. "Do you have reservations?"

"Uh, no," Booth took a quick look around the small cafe, seeing only a few empty tables. "I didn't call ahead 'cause I wasn't sure what time we'd be eating tonight." His mouth broke into a small smile. "Any chance you can squeeze us in? I heard your place is amazing."

Brennan recognized Booth's grin as the one he used whenever he wanted to get something he wanted. Unsurprisingly, the young lady was visibly affected by his charm and the scientist watched as the twenty-something woman studied the grid at her hostess station.

"Give me just a moment," she addressed Booth and nodded at Brennan. "Let me see what I can do."

His white teeth beaming in response to her request, Booth nodded. "Sure thing, we really appreciate it."

The partners watched as the girl disappeared through a narrow, unmarked door. Stepping closer, Brennan chuckled and shook her head. "You're unbelievable."

"Wha-?" Booth feigned ignorance, knowing full well what he was up to. "I'm just asking! If we need to, we'll make a reservation for later and come back. But that means you'll just have to control that irresistible urge to snack on everything in sight." He teased her, knowing that although she typically made health-conscious decisions, her secret bouts of uber-snacking were known to select few persons.

Before she could retort, the door pushed open and the young lady made a quick reappearance. With a smile that lingered a little too long on Booth, she nodded. "If you'll follow me, we can seat you this way." She motioned to her right, taking two menus with her as she guided them to a cozy table, tucked away in the corner. "I hope you don't mind, but it's a small table. You'll have to sit close." She said quietly to Brennan as she circled to the back of the chairs. "It's the only one available."

Brennan smiled while Booth answered, more for Brennan's benefit than anyone else's. "The closer the better." Their hostess, who would introduce herself as Helen before taking their drink order and apprising them of the daily specials, chuckled quietly, suspecting that the handsome couple were well-acquainted with sitting close together.

B/B/B/B

As they finished their meals and slowly nursed their coffees, Booth studied his partner. Their conversation had been as comfortable as always and she looked relaxed. On occasion, he would catch her watching him when she thought he wasn't looking, but hell, he was always looking at her, he couldn't help himself. His curiosity finally overcoming his hesitation to ask, he tilted his head to the side.

"I'm confused about something," he said. "A couple of somethings, actually."

"You are?" She didn't have any idea whatsoever where he could be going with this. "About what?"

"You."

She suddenly felt uncomfortable. Brennan didn't like being the center of his confusion, she worried that things would go wrong with their relationship before it even began. Clearing her throat, she flicked her eyes between him and her coffee cup. "I don't understand."

"I am curious," he leaned forward in his seat, resting his arms on the table, his hands cradling his own coffee mug. "How is it, that a woman who has traveled as extensively as you, never had the opportunity to drive a jetski before today?" He shrugged one shoulder. "I mean, I know you're no stranger to the ocean..."

Relieved that his confusion was nothing more than innocent curiosity, Brennan felt the tension in her shoulders ease as quickly as its initial onset. "Really? That has you wondering?" She smiled when he nodded in response. "Well," she thought for a moment and sipped her quickly-cooling Java, "I guess it was never really a priority." When one of his eyebrows shot above the other in silent question, she continued. "I wasn't raised around water, Booth, so as a child I wasn't exposed to such vehicles. And, even though one of my foster families lived near a lake, they had nothing of the sort in their garage." She thought back to her college years. "Once I graduated from high school and aged out of the foster system, I had to focus on my studies in order to maintain my scholarships and grants, and I had to work in my off-time to support myself. I didn't have time to worry about heading to the lake on weekends and holidays like so many of my classmates. The time I was at the beach with Angela, we had plans to rent some, to take the lessons that were offered, but we never really got around to it." She didn't want to spell out the real reasons she didn't have the chance to rent a waverunner with Angela. Brennan didn't think Booth would appreciate hearing about her extracurricular activities with Jacques the artist... "And once I learned to scuba dive, which, incidentally was spurred on strictly by the need to excavate an ancient cenote in Central America, I didn't need to learn to ride... Whenever we went diving, we took a boat in order to carry our dive equipment and research tools." Meeting his warm gaze, she shrugged. "So... I didn't need to learn... And as a result of it being unnecessary, I didn't worry about it. I focused my energies elsewhere."

Her story made complete sense to him, though he still found it both baffling and sad that his adventurous partner hadn't set apart time to play in your younger years. He nodded silently, mulling over her explanation in his mind. "That's understandable." One side of his mouth curled upward. "To be honest, I'm kinda glad that you never learned... It gave me the opportunity to teach you something for a change."

She laughed at his blatant honesty and mirrored his position by leaning on the table, closing the distance separating them a little more. "I'm glad, too." She paused a moment, letting the warmth of their unfolding reality wash over her and she folded her hands. "What else?"

Distracted by the light shining in her eyes and the gentle curve of her lower lip, Booth forgot what they were talking about. "Huh?" His eyes darted back up to her's, knowing he had been caught memorizing the way her tongue darted out and caught a trace of coffee at the corner of her mouth.

She smiled, knowing he was just as affected as she was. "What other 'something' is confusing you?"

"Oh, right," he sat back considering whether it was all that important. "It's nothing, really, I guess. When I was thinking about the jetski, it made me also wonder... How is it that you've never swam with dolphins before? I mean, you dive and snorkel... You love dolphins..."

She knew she should have expected this question, and felt slightly surprised that it had taken him all day to mention it. Gathering her thoughts, she began explaining in as concise a manner as possible. "Well, I have swum with captive dolphins, just not wild ones..."

"Yeah, but that was just last year. I remember you talking about that..."

"Right." She rolled her lips between her teeth and shifted slightly, hoping that what she was about to say would make sense on some level. "When my family left, when I really came to realize that they were not coming back for me, I've told you about how that made me feel as a adolescent..."

Booth nodded in silent understanding, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought, but wanting her to know that he was there to support her.

"I didn't want to spend time thinking about the things that my parents liked, or hobbies they did, or collections they had..." She was struggling to put her thoughts into words. Her emotions were much clearer in her mind than they were when she spoke the words aloud. "I don't know if you'll understand this or not, Booth... But I went through a phase, one which lasted several years, when I wanted to distance myself from anything that reminded me of my parents. The science that was dad's passion, I really couldn't separate from myself because I knew that would be my metaphorical ticket through college... So I just forgot about the lessons that he and I shared, and focused, instead, on the knowledge I gained. There was no way for me to get away from the science..." She shrugged. "But my mother... She didn't really teach me things scholastically the way my father did, so it was easier for me to push memories away. I didn't want to have things in common with her, because I refused to believe that I would ever be like her... I could never leave someone I claimed to love, especially a child... So when I went away to school, learned to snorkel and dive for the purpose of research, I placed myself in the position to control my environment. If you look at my diving experiences, you will find they are mostly ceremonial cenotes or cave dives. One doesn't encounter wild dolphins in those environments easily." She smiled sadly. "And that was ok with me... For a long time."

Reaching across the table, Booth covered her hand, rubbing her fingers with his thumb. "Sorry, Bones."

Not wanting to dampen their moods, Brennan smiled. "It's alright, Booth. I realize now that just because I have similar interests as my mother had, it doesn't mean I'm destined to behave like she did." She curled one side of her mouth. "Besides, destiny isn't real. I, alone, control my actions, and those actions, in turn, determine the degree of success or failure I experience."

"So... You still don't believe that Fate has anything to do with who we are or what we do?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I don't believe in such things." She met his challenging grin with one of her own. "I didn't believe in it the day you and I met, and I still don't." She waited for him to argue his point but he didn't. Instead, she watched as he simply nodded his head, accepting her stance, but she also felt the sweep of his thumb across the back of her hand grow slower. Eventually he stopped his caress, pulled her hand up to his lips as he leaned further across the table and he pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers.

"I'm glad you haven't changed, Bones," he said quietly. "I am just as captivated by you today as I was seven years ago, when I first laid eyes on you

Softening her expression, she felt the metaphoric butterflies in her abdomen erupt into a frenzy of flutters, and she added another confession. "I don't think I could have accepted discovering the truth behind my family's mysterious past, and ultimately my mother's demise, if you hadn't been there, Booth. I don't think I ever really thanked you for all the late-night visits fronted with endless food containers from Wong Foo's... Having you there made all the difference."

They got lost in a moment, each partner taking advantage of the romantic setting and the candlelit atmosphere to simply study each other. It happened like it had so often happened in the past, and the rest of the world faded into nothingness around them. They were the center... Not only were they the center of their highly successful team of geniuses, but as far as the partners were concerned, they were the center of the whole universe.

"Bones," he whispered, fighting his baser, primal instincts to stand up, grab her and plant a firm, possessive kiss on her in front of anyone who might be watching. "I'll always be here for you. No matter what."

Believing his conviction with every fiber in her body, Brennan admitted to herself that she never again wanted to risk losing him. She knew, deep down, that this was their time, and she needed to let him know that she was ready, but she was still more than a little scared. "I know." Warmth rushed her cheeks and her head felt like it was spinning, but she knew it had nothing to do with the wine they'd had with dinner. "I've never been more convinced of anything in my life, Booth."

"I wanna do this, Bones." His voice was soft, but unwavering. "We can take things as slow as you want. But dammit, I want this... I want us. And I think you do, too." He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat; the fear of putting himself out there again, vulnerable to rejection, was terrifying. It wasn't so much the sting of the whole Hannah-debacle being so recent, or that he almost made the biggest mistake in his life with the journalist... His fear rested with the person sitting across from him. Temperance Brennan unknowingly controlled his every move, his every action and decision. She owned his soul and she alone held the power to crush him into tiny, irreparable pieces or to breathe life into his lungs, allowing him to live a full, meaningful life.

Tightening her fingers around his, Brennan fought back emotional tears she didn't understand. Her brain and her heart were in a hypothetical battle over losing her independence for an experience that could very well result in only temporary happiness, or gaining much more than a partner in a relationship that could help her see the world in a whole new way. She knew what Booth wanted, that he wanted it all.

And the simple fact that she was actually considering giving it to him was simply terrifying.

And exhilarating.

"What if," she shrugged one shoulder… "Booth, what if I do something to mess us up?"

Booth understood her concern, they'd had plenty of conversations over the years about her fear of commitment to a single person and her understandable lack of trust in other people. "Bones," he sandwiched her hands in his, "I know you…. You're not gonna do anything to mess us up." Worried that she would back away before they even embarked on their journey, his mind raced to find a way to convince her. "Look, Bones…. Just think about it, ok? I mean, give it some serious consideration."

Brennan could practically feel Booth's own anxiety radiating from his body, vibrating through his hands into hers. Not wanting to add to his nervousness, she smiled, feeling the weight of her own burden lightened in lessening his. "I already have, Booth."

The agent was almost afraid of what she meant, uncertain if her decision was made or if the jury was still out. "You have?" He watched as her face lit up brilliantly, her cheeks rose as her smile grew. "And…?" His eyebrow arched.

"And, I promise," she tilted her head sideways and her smile softened. "I promise to give you a definitive answer very soon." The partners settled into another 'moment,' the type that had been happening more and more often, each time lasting longer than the previous.

Hating to interrupt her charming customers, but needing to flip the table, their waitress, Wendy, hesitated for a moment, seeing the couple smiling warmly at each other. When she was given the table, Helen told her that the guests were intimately sweet, and Wendy had to agree that they were charming and appeared more than just a little smitten with one another. Taking a deep breath, the thirty-year-old woman closed in on the table.

"Excuse me, is there anything else I can get for either of you?" She smiled at Brennan, who blushed at the interruption to their silence. Turning to Booth, she received her answer.

"Nah, we're good, thanks." He handed her his credit card and sat back. "Everything was delicious."

"Great!" Wendy was on the receiving end of a friendly smile, and she couldn't help but feel a little envious, as unwarranted as it was, that she wasn't getting as warm a smile as his date had gotten. She accepted his card with a slight nod. "I'll be right back with your receipt." As she wandered over to her computer station, she glanced at the name on his card. In her mind she hoped that she would someday meet someone who would gaze at her the way Seeley Booth was gazing at his dining companion.

B/B/B/B

They walked slowly back towards the boardwalk, neither partner in a hurry to rush to their next destination. Brennan had accepted the outstretched hand Booth offered when they left the small restaurant and she happily walked close by his side.

"How did you learn about that cafe? It was wonderful, Booth. Their vegetarian selection was very extensive."

He grinned, happy that he'd made a choice that she truly seemed to enjoy. "Yeah it was pretty damn tasty, huh?" He shoved his empty hand into his pocket. "Once I knew that we were coming down here for the convention, I started looking online at different places, hoping we'd have time to ourselves. I looked at their menu online and knew you and I would each be able to find something there."

Not even attempting to hide her satisfied smile, she looked up at him. "You were searching for date-type-places?"

"Well," he chuckled and shrugged. "A guy can hope, right?" He released her hand and draped his arm across her shoulders, pulling her closer. "I'm glad you liked it, Bones." He spoke against the side of her head, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her shampoo and whatever perfume she used. Dropping a feather-light kiss above her ear, he chuckled. "And now, to top off the perfectly romantic evening we've thus far enjoyed, let's go play games in the noisy, overcrowded arcade. We can compete, win tickets and get crappy prizes we don't need."

She laughed out loud as they climbed the stairs that would lead them back up to the boardwalk. His youthful excitement felt contagious and she giggled involuntarily as the grew closer to their destination. Before she could compliment him on his plans, however, the partners were suddenly assaulted by a chorus of noisy wolf-whistles and whoops coming from behind. Halting on the stairs and turning around, Booth spotted Smitty, Gray and a small group of other seasoned agents walking up the sidewalk behind them. Knowing they undoubtedly spotted the physical contact between him and his partner, Booth just smirked, certain he recognized a glimmer of jealousy in Gray's expression as the group grew near.

Brennan felt her heart flutter in apprehension and her posture stiffened, as if ready for confrontation. "Booth," she whispered harshly, her worry filling the air. "It's highly probable that they just saw what you did." Subconsciously, she reached up and grazed her fingertips over the spot where his lips had pressed gently against her cheek.

"Don't worry about it, Bones." He winked up at her as she moved the the next step, subconsciously making herself taller than everyone else. "It's all good."

"What if they make trouble for us?" She kept her voice quiet, knowing Booth's counterparts would be able to hear their conversion any moment.

"Hey," he rose to the step next to her and splayed his hand wide across her lower back while flexing his fingers into her flesh gently, a gesture of comfort as well as a sign of alpha-possession, something he knew she would call him out on sooner or later. "Don't worry about what they say or think. I'm not." He shrugged one shoulder and watched the men close the distance. Raising his voice loud enough he knew they'd hear, he cracked a smile. "They're just jealous, Bones." He flashed a smile. "I'm out on the town with my beautiful partner and they're stuck slumming around with each other..."

"Damn right we're jealous, Booth, you sonofabitch." Smitty laughed and slapped Booth on the shoulder as he climbed the steps. He chuckled and winked at Brennan. "Evenin' Dr. Brennan."

"Hello," Brennan raised her chin bravely, hoping that her partner's colleagues weren't 'jealous' enough to create any problems. Feeling as though someone was staring directly at her, the scientist turned her head and found Marcus' dark eyes boring into her intensely. Suddenly, she understood what Booth had always meant by 'gut feelings.'

**Postscript A/N**

**So we can hope, now, that the painful snails-pace is about to pick up a bit! *fingers crossed* As I said, I was planning to put their date all in one chapter, but as I edited and corrected my initial draft, this chapter was turning into a monster, so that is why it's broken in two. Hope you don't mind!**

**Please review, it's the only way I know if people are still reading. I appreciate you all!**

**peace &amp; love, my friends,**

**~jazzy**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N Apologies for the delay. Work's been really busy lately and I've been traveling a bit. I hope you enjoy B&amp;B's date: part 2. **

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing more than this story idea.**

"I can't believe you've never played Skee-ball, Bones." Booth's face was alight with child-like anticipation. "It was one of our favorite games when we were kids." As the partners made their way down the busy boardwalk, Booth had been telling Brennan about the various adventures he and Jared had when they finally went to live with Pops. "There used to be an annual Skee-ball tournament in Atlantic City we'd go and watch." His fingers flexed against her lower back, guiding her in the direction of the noisy arcade. "Looking back, it wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, but it was something we could all do together... It was a great way for us to bond with Pops, after, you know," he shrugged. "After everything that happened with my dad."

Brennan listened attentively while her keen eyes scanned their surroundings, constantly surveying people around them and the activities in which they participated. She was enjoying this glimpse into her partner's history. So often, he kept his childhood activities and memories private, sharing only a tidbit here or there. But as they maneuvered through the milling crowds, he was sharing happy memories and stories, allowing her to imagine the antics of a young Seeley, looking perhaps, a lot like Parker.

The mass of arcade-goers was much thicker around the newer, more modern games. Lines of people filled the space as they waited for their respective turns on games like "Target Terrors" and "Dance USA", but Booth wasn't interested in the graphics and 3D images of those games. He led his partner towards the back of the large space, innately knowing that his preference would be found back there.

Feeling an unmistakable swell of competitiveness in her chest, she grinned and looked at Booth. "We could have our own tournament of sorts, right?"

"Whad'dya mean?" Booth's eyes darted left then right, looking past the classic pinball machines and a circle of Whac-a-moles until he finally spotted the long, narrow lanes. He grabbed her hand and tugged, glad to see that, given the extreme lack of anything hi-def, the vintage games didn't hold much attention for the younger generation of gamers.

"You and I could compete, Booth!" She smiled brightly as she came to stand beside him, facing a thirteen-foot run, reminiscent of a bowling alley lane. "Loser buys coffee later."

He watched as she sized up the measurements, knowing full well she was mentally calculating whatever nerdy statistics she felt applied to the game. "Yeah, sure, Bones. But I warn you," he shrugged one shoulder, "I've got years of experience on ya."

Meeting his playful challenge, she narrowed her eyes. "But you said earlier that you haven't played in several years."

"True, but I already know the game. And I have _mad_ skills."

"You _had_ 'mad skills' _years _ago, Booth," she countered, jokingly making air-quotes at his so-called mad skills. "As a person ages, their once-honed skills are often lost when their technique goes unpracticed."

"Are you calling me _old_?" He faced her, his hands on his hips and a crooked smile threatening to break free at her playfulness.

"Well," she shrugged exaggeratedly. "If it's your shoe size..." She let her statement fade, waiting for his retort.

Bursting out laughing, Booth shook his head and pulled out his wallet. "The saying is '_if the shoe fits_,' Bones..."

"You knew what I meant," she raised her dainty nose and turned back to the lane, waiting to see what she needed to do next.

"Yeah," he glanced around, looking for a token machine, "sometimes I feel like I have my own specialized degree in Bones-ology."

"There is no such..." She tried to argue his false field of study, but stopped talking when he held up a finger.

"Hold my lane, I'm gonna go break this," he held up the bill. Not waiting for her to answer, he winked and walked quickly over to an automated change machine, into which he fed the twenty-dollar bill and received a handful of tokens in return. _Shit_, he grumbled to himself, staring down at his open palm. _I remember when games only cost twenty-five cents_... He mused only momentarily. _Maybe I __**am**_ _getting old_... But he would never admit that to his own, personal anthropologist.

Watching her partner's recognizable swagger as he walked back over to her side, Brennan admired his physique, and certainly not for the first time that evening. He was wearing a casual, light blue Guayabera style shirt and dark jeans. The look suited him well and she failed to hide a proud grin at the fact that _she _was his date for the evening.

As he re-approached Brennan, Booth noted her smile and wondered what she was up to. "What has you looking so smug, Bones?"

Immediately schooling her expression, she feigned innocence. "I don't know what you mean..." She looked away quickly, pretending to be overly interested in the crowd around them. Chancing a glance back at Booth, she noticed the cocky expression he wore and she knew he must have caught her watching him as he closed the distance. "Are we going to play this game or what?"

Chuckling, he stepped in front of his lane and nodded, handing her a few of the tokens. "Sure are, Bones. Prepare to be annihilated, _Dr. Brennan_."

Laughing at his overzealous response, she followed his lead and fed two of her tokens into the slots and watched as ten orange-sized balls rolled down the chute to her right. "I think you may be underestimating my ability to adapt to _any _situation, _Agent_ _Booth_." She was unsuccessful in hiding her arrogance.

He watched as she took a final, calculating gaze along the length of her lane while palming the weight of a ball in her hand. He leaned far to his left, bumping her shoulder playfully. "Nah-uh," he responded. "I think I know better than _anyone_, just how steep your learning curve is, there, Bones." He winked. "And I _never _underestimate you…"

The partners volleyed wins and losses in between laughs and shameless flirting. Gentle nudges and featherlight touches were traded unapologetically. Sixty-five minutes, _and forty dollars later_, only fifteen points separated their scores. Booth watched as Brennan rolled her final ball up the slightly inclined lane with just a little too much gusto. Studying its progress an eventual rebound off the backboard, Brennan groaned in dismay as it bounced into the ten-point ring, finalizing their challenge with Booth as the victor.

"Well, you put up a valiant effort, Bones," he consoled her cheerfully. "There for a bit, I thought for sure you were gonna whip up on me."

"Next time, Booth," she leaned into him, allowing him to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "I will win. _Big_."

"I have no doubt." He nodded and guided her through the thrones of people. "In fact, I look forward to it." Tightening his arm slightly, he teased. "But I suspect I am definitely gonna enjoy my coffee tonight."

Nearly forgetting that, by her own rules, she, as the loser, would have to buy coffee, the anthropologist chuckled. "It always tastes better when someone else pays, doesn't it?"

Handing his partner the pile of point tickets that had accumulated between their games, the agent swept his arm towards the array of typically cheap and useless 'prizes' she could claim. "Well, Bones," he tilted his head towards her. "I think that it's only fair that you choose the prize… After all, it's the first time you've been able to partake in such a _regal_ competition."

Knowing that her options were limited, to say the least, she laughed. "You are _too _generous, Booth." Her arm snaked around his waist, and the sheer comfort she felt in their physical positioning did not go unnoticed. She was about to ask him what he thought Parker would like when, up on the very top shelf, she noticed there was a five-thousand-piece puzzle of a marine scene. Loving the challenge and quiet concentration that puzzles required, the scientist arched an eyebrow. "Look," she pointed to the item. "I want that."

Booth spied the box on the top shelf and did a quick calculation, figuring that they did, in fact, win enough tickets for her choice. "Why am I not surprised?" He joked and guided her to up to the counter, where a high-school-aged kid sat on a stool, looking bored with his job.

"I love puzzles." Her eyes twinkled with nerdy excitement as she whispered loudly.

"I know. I remember you saying you find them _relaxing_." He thought back to a case early in their partnership, when they were forced to take Hodgins with them out into the field. Booth knew, that at the early point in their working relationship, he had been short-tempered and abrupt in most of his responses to her _and her squints_, and he was so grateful that she had put up with him for all those years. "But f_ive-thousand_ pieces? Really?"

"Don't worry," she automatically assumed he would help in the puzzle's completion. "We can set it up on my dining room table. That way we can just leave it, and it will remain undisturbed until we successfully complete it. We can work on it in the evenings..."

Not wanting to argue against any activity in which he could partake with her, he nodded, pushing his dislike for jigsaw puzzles into the back of his mind. "OK." He met her pale eyes and smiled. "Sounds good."

Without further ado, Brennan piled their tickets onto the glass-topped display counter. Cocking an eyebrow at the boy in the red button-down uniform shirt, she raised her chin. "Do we have enough tickets here for that?"

Booth smirked, thinking to himself that it was the most expensive puzzle _ever_, but seeing how excited she was, and knowing how much fun she had playing the game, he knew it was all worth it. Hell, if she wanted a companion puzzle, _(and if he thought it would garner another look like she had just given him)_, he'd drop another forty-bucks on Whac-a-mole and teach her the finer points of that game...

With a great deal of exaggerated effort, the kid slid from his perch and stretched up on his toes, extracting the puzzle from it's shelf. Placing the puzzle in front of Brennan, he gathered the tickets. "Looks like you do, but let me confirm." He fed the tickets into a machine, which would automatically count them. "Yep. And these are left over." He handed the balance back to Brennan.

She turned to Booth, silently asking him what he wanted to do with the the rest of their tickets, knowing full well that there was absolutely nothing there that the man would want. When he motioned for her to make another choice, she turned back to the counter.

"Booth?" She called to him as she studied her options. "What about that model? For Parker?"

Honing his eyes in on the airplane model she was pointing out, he smiled. "Yeah, he might like that, Bones." It was a snap-together model, so it was meant for a child a little younger than Parker, but Booth knew that if Brennan was the one giving it, there would be no complaints. He sidled up alongside her, placing his hand once again on the small of her back. "Thanks, Bones. Coming from you, he'll love it."

Not realizing the faux-pas of choosing a toy for a pre-teen that was meant for a younger child, Brennan simply beamed, happy that her partner thought the model would be a good option. "I don't want to let the tickets go to waste…"

"Definitely. And I promise you, when you give it to him, you'll get a much bigger hug from him than either Rebecca or I would get, if we were to give it to him."

Not understanding what her partner meant, she wrinkled her brow. "I don't understand." She looked down at the box, noting that the model was far from a scale replica, but she suspected the boy would like it anyway.

"I just mean that when you give him a present, it always means more." He winked and leaned close enough to speak into her hair, just above her ear. "Because he's crazy about you…" He pressed a kiss against the sweet tresses and backed away quickly, giving her the space she might need.

The attendant handed Brennan a small fistful of leftover tickets. "You still have a few more…"

"Oh…" Now Brennan seemed confused, unsure what to do.

"Hey," Booth nodded to the glass case a little further down from where they stood. "What about a couple of those? For Russ's girls?" He pointed to small dolls, knowing that choosing two of those would use the balance of the tickets.

"A humanoid facsimile?"

"_Doll_, Bones," Booth leaned in and muttered against the back of her head. "Not _humanoid facsimile_..."

"Oh, right," Brennan blushed slightly and flicked her eyes up to the young man. "I'll have two of those. _Different_ colors, please!" She ordered him when he reached in and grabbed two identically dressed dolls. "Thank you," she slipped the dolls into the bag containing her puzzle and Parker's model.

Guiding his partner towards the exit of the arcade, Booth couldn't help but chuckle. "Didn't you used to have dolls when you were little?"

"I don't really remember," she answered honestly. Brightening at one particular memory that popped into her head, she turned a radiant smile back towards her partner. "I do remember that I had a toy skeleton that I could take apart and put back together again! I was probably about six or seven when I asked my dad for it."

Throwing his head back with laughter, Booth palmed her waist and ushered her forward. "Again...Why does that not surprise me?"

"As I recall, however, it wasn't anatomically correct..." Her voice died down as she thought about her long-forgotten toy.

B/B/B/B

The partners sat side by side, their shoulders touching, on a bench overlooking the ocean. The cacophony of the boardwalk a short distance away, they simply enjoyed the breeze while drinking their coffee. Leaning slightly into her, Booth tilted his head in her direction.

"Did you have fun tonight?"

Smiling at her partner's close proximity, she glanced at the bag of prizes occupying the space next to her before turning back to Booth with clear, bright eyes. "Yes, very much."

Booth didn't bother to try to hide his cocky smile as he boldly placed his arm across the back of the bench, and effectively around her shoulders. "Good. Maybe you'll agree to going out with me again sometime... _soon_?"

Brennan took a tiny sip of her quickly cooling drink and nodded. "Here, to the boardwalk?"

"What, you wanna lose again?"

She laughed, knowing that next time they competed on skee-ball she would do everything in her feminine power to distract him into losing. "Maybe..."

"Well, we don't necessarily have to come back to the boards, we can go someplace else if you want. You pick the place, and I'll take ya..."

"I find that idea pleasing," she felt her cheeks blush as she consciously snuggled closer against his body, something she was not typically fond of doing, but at the same time, a move that she found herself enjoying. "But I am not completely opposed to coming back down here. I had fun."

Placing his empty cup on the armrest, he nodded. "Alright, sure. We can come back later this week if you wanna." He leaned in and spoke quietly against the side of her head. "I had fun, too, Bones." Nuzzling his nose gently against her soft skin, he continued. "Thanks for agreeing to our date tonight."

Brennan knew there was a perfectly reasonable _and scientific_ explanation for the feelings that were reeling through her body in that moment... She had an inkling of recognition that it had _something_ to do with neurotransmitters and oxytocin... But damned if she could think straight enough to talk herself down from the racing heartbeats and sweaty palms. And, in that instant, she flashed back to the time Booth sat in her apartment trying to help her through her father's trial, telling her to put her brain in neutral and to pop her heart into overdrive. At that time in her life, in their partnership, she wondered if he was a little mentally unstable, but she never once doubted his kindness. And as the anthropologist sat there on the bench, leaning into the heat of his body, she decided to follow his advice from years before, and she tried to put her brain into neutral.

Booth could practically hear the squeaky wheels in her brain turning... He imagined an exhausted little hamster running frantically around in place, and he cupped his hand on her shoulder. "Did I say something wrong?" He wondered if he was moving too fast for her, that perhaps she wasn't as ready as she had initially indicated.

Turning her head to meet his concerned gaze, she smiled and rested her hand on his thigh lightly. "No, Booth." Her voice was quiet, intimate. "You haven't said _anything_ wrong."

His smile was her reward and she looked back out over the rolling waves once more, enjoying the sensations that were rolling through her body in time with the ocean. After several quiet moments, she pulled her lower lip into her mouth and looked at him again. "There's just one thing that I would have liked to do... Maybe we can do it next time?"

"What's that?" He wasn't sure what she could possibly be talking about.

Turning slightly to point over their shoulders, she let an uncharacteristically shy smile tug at her lips and showed him what she meant. "There's a photo booth over there."

The agent's brow wrinkled. "Bones," he looked at her while she looked longingly at the vintage booth. "We have cameras on our phones," he reached into his pocket and extracted his newest upgrade. "You wanna take a selfie?" He grinned wide enough that his seldom-seen dimple appeared. Tugging her closer, he tilted his head until it touched her's and he snapped a photo just as soon as the familiar little 'v' appeared between her elegantly shaped eyebrows.

"I don't know what that is..."

"It's a _selfie_!"

"You can't describe a word by using the same word, Booth."

"It's when you take a picture of yourself, Bones!" He chuckled and clicked to view the media. "See?"

"Oh," she seemed deflated that there was no need for a photo booth session. "I see."

"What? You don't like it? We'll take another." He started to pull close again.

"No, it's not that I don't like it," she shrugged one shoulder, "although the picture is less than flattering..." She was getting sidetracked and she didn't want that to happen. "It's just that..." Feeling suddenly childish, she shook her head. "Never mind."

"No, tell me," now Booth was concerned that he had upset his date. "What is it?"

"When I was in high school, I had a part time job at a bookstore at the local mall." She thought about her words carefully. "You see, I had to have a job because I knew that as soon as I turned eighteen, I would be out on my own. It was a job that I liked and one that afforded me the exposure to authors who were banned from the high school library. But right across the hall," she looked out into the distance, as if she were reliving a time in her youth. "There was a photo booth and I would see my classmates come and go, always squeezing in, behind the curtain, for pictures. They would laugh and carry on, generally having a good time." Embarrassment overtook her story and she looked down at her lap. "I used to wish that I had someone to take a picture with in a photo booth. But I didn't." She shrugged again and looked up sadly. "It was a silly idea, Booth. Never mind. I'm not a child anymore, and you're right... We have much more sophisticated cameras on our cellphones now."

"It's not a silly idea at all, Bones." He pushed up from his seat, reaching for her hand and taking her nearly empty coffee cup, tucking it inside his to dispose. "C'mon, let's go in." He nodded towards the once busy, but now all but forgotten, attraction. "Everybody has to experience a photo booth at least once in life." He smiled and pulled her up, lacing his fingers with hers so she was forced to walk at his side. "Grab your bag, let's go."

Trying to stifle a swell of giddy excitement, Brennan chuckled involuntarily. "Are you sure?"

"C'mon, _Dr. Brennan_," he urged playfully. "Before a line forms!"

Laughing at the absurdity that there would be a line-up of patrons at the old-time boardwalk and carnival standard, Brennan trotted along, finally surpassing Booth's stride and pulling him in turn.

Booth chuckled at his partner's youthful excitement. He loved that she was comfortable enough around him to just relax and let herself go... There was a time early in their partnership when she was so self-conscious about her actions and words, that he actually felt bad for her. He reached into his back pocket and fished out his wallet as his partner stood by, reading the information on the wall of the kiosk.

"Ok, Bones," he said as he pulled aside the curtain and stepped into the tiny space. "C'mon in," he smirked at the bright expression on her face when she entered and studied the inner walls, which were littered with graffiti. Standing close, he took a deep breath and sat on the only stool, sitting slightly sideways so she could sit on his right thigh. "Wow..." He swallowed thickly. "These things were so much bigger when I was a kid..."

Not thinking twice about stepping between Booth's parted knees and sitting on his lap, her brow wrinkled and she continued to study their surroundings. "Booth, I very much doubt they would make these vending machines much smaller now than they did when you were a child... Besides, this place looks to be quite a bit older than you are... It was probably made well before you were born." When he didn't answer her, she turned and looked down at him, seeing a jovial expression in his warm brown eyes. "Oh..." She tucked her lower lip between her teeth and snorted a tiny laugh. "You were probably exaggerating... Seeing as how you have grown larger, you now fill the space more than you did as a child... Your perception of the space around you is what has been altered with time... Not the actual construction of these units..."

Laughing out loud, he nodded his head. "Yes, Bones, I was exaggerating. But thanks for keeping me straight."

Knowing that he took her literal nature all in stride, Brennan simply let the moment pass without further scrutiny. She spotted the glass pane, a poor excuse for a mirror, opposite from where they sat, and leaned a little more towards Booth's warm body, trying to place as much of herself inside the faded red outline that would determine the picture frame.

"Hang on, there, Bones," he laughed at her eagerness to start smiling into the camera. Stretching his arm outright, he fed his five-dollar bill into the slot, reminiscing only briefly that photo booths charged just fifty cents when he and Jared used to go to the Jersey shore with Pops. "Ok," he grabbed the remote that would allow him to start the automated process once they were in place. Sitting back up straight, he tugged his partner tighter against him, boldly spreading his hand wide across her lower hip to keep her in place. "You gotta make sure your face is inside that square, otherwise you won't be in the picture."

"Yes, I read the instructions, Booth." She failed miserably at trying to hide her giddy excitement behind poorly delivered sarcasm. She turned her head and looked down at him, though, smiling softly. "Thanks, Booth. I've always wanted to do this."

Booth looked up at his partner, _his date_, and admired the pretty pink flush that filled her cheeks and the honest clarity that shone from her crystal blue-green eyes. Her smile was one of appreciation and simple beauty. He pressed the button in his left hand without another word, flexing the fingers of his right into the soft flesh of Brennan's body. "You're welcome," he said softly, hypnotized by being so close.

The flash of light alarmed Brennan and she whipped her head around, staring in shock at the reflective glass. "Wha-?" The second flash silenced her exclamation and she saw Booth's wide, cheeky smile staring back at her in their reflection. A split second before the third flash, she felt him squeeze and whisper _smile_, and she managed to flash a grin just as the third photo was taken. By the time the fourth picture was taken, they were both laughing as he held her firm in his leg when she started to slide off.

Knowing that the session only took four pictures, Brennan turned and looked down at him. "Booth! I wasn't ready! And why were the flashes so quick?! You didn't give me time to compose myself!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he chuckled unapologetically. "I thought you read how all this worked... Once we start the process, there are only thirty seconds between takes."

"But," she almost whined, "you didn't ask me if I was ready!"

"You were," he said through an honest smile. "You looked beautiful."

"Booth!" She pushed against him playfully and reached forward just as the dispenser spit out a strip of four tiny pictures. "I wanna do it again. This time _I _get the button!" She stilled her motion as she studied her first-ever photo booth photos with her very own Booth. The look on his face in the first picture caused her to catch her breath. He was looking up at her as she was looking down at him, and he looked so peaceful, so relaxed and happy. So undeniably handsome. It was only a profile shot of him, but the worry lines that she so often saw him wear on a daily basis were gone, and the corner of his lips were curled just enough to offer a hint of his impish smile. "On second thought," she blindly sat down on his thigh once more, welcoming the warmth of his hand on her hip as he guided her to the spot her wanted her. "We don't need to do it again..." She was still staring at that first picture at the bottom of the strip, trying to still her racing heart as she witnessed his feelings for her in that single shot. "These are perfect..." Her words faded away and she felt him lean in, wanting to see the results of his ambush as well.

"Well," he knew what she would say, but he had to ask anyway. "Which two do you want?"

Turning wide, shocked eyes his way, she stuttered. "W-what? What do you mean _which two_?"

"Well, you get two and I get two...that's how it works..." He feigned innocence, zeroing in immediately on the one image she had been staring at. He had to admit to himself, it was a damn good shot. Her hair was pulled back over her shoulder, exposing the long, thin column of her neck, and her smile was just enough to reveal the small eye-tooth that he adored. She looked beautiful in the shot and he knew he would have to settle for a copy of that particular one. His eyes traced up the strip, studying the others, and even though it was obvious in the second one that she wasn't ready, she was so photogenic that she looked amazing in every pose.

"But I like them all..." She sounded like a child who had been told she had to give up her favorite skeleton doll. "Why do we have to split them up? It's a time progression... See? They should remain intact." She held it out to him, as if to make a point that he obviously didn't understand.

Barely hiding his smirk, he pulled another bill from his pocket. "Fine, fine... I'll get my own set..." He pretended not to see the look of triumph that washed over her face before she carefully schooled her expression, knowing she thought she had gotten away with something. "Of course," he leaned forward to feed the bill into the slot, effectively forcing her to stand, before he resettled onto the stool, eyeing her expectantly. "That means you'll have to sit back down," he patted his leg playfully, "right here."

Brennan felt herself blush at the insinuation but didn't argue. "Well," she sat back down demurely, holding her strip of photos close to her torso, "if you're sure..." She felt his palm graze the upper swell of her bottom as he moved it into place on her hip, and she allowed him to guide her far up his thigh so she settled against his body.

"Positive," he said softly, wrapping his arm further around her waist. Looking down at his other hand, which held the remote, he glanced back at her. "You ready?"

"Wait," she held out her hand. "Are we just smiling or are we supposed to be silly? I remember the kids at school used to make funny faces…"

"OK," he nodded once. "First one can be silly or funny… Then let's just go from there."

"Go where?"

"No, I mean, after we do the first one, just let things unfold naturally."

"Oh, alright." She nodded and settled against him again. Just when she saw he was about to press the button, she stopped him again. "OH, wait!"

Booth barely stopped his thumb in time. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just, I don't know what kind of face to make…" She arched her brow. "What should I do?"

"I dunno, Bones. Just something funny. Whatever you want." He shrugged, humored that she was so concerned about a photo booth picture.

"Well what are _you _going to do?" She didn't want to be overly silly _or_ insufficiently animated, she felt like she needed some guidance.

Shrugging once, Booth just made a goofy face, not particularly concerned about what he actually looked like. But when she burst out laughing, he could tell that she was once again at ease. Letting his eyes skim over her pale skin as she stifled her uncharacteristic giggle, he felt himself falling again. He wondered briefly if it was possible for someone to be more in love with another human than he was with his partner, and he knew he was getting dangerously close to revealing the truth to her. Once she regained her composure he snickered. "Are you ready now?"

"Yes, I'm sorry." She stilled her features. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"OK." He readied to press the remote but felt her posture stiffen.

"Wait! Wait!" She became excited and wiggled on his leg.

"Bones! I almost hit the button!"

"But wait," she looked into the mirror, meeting his eyes for just a split second in their reflection. Needing just a little bit of reassurance, she took a breath. "What about this?" She crossed her eyes, wrinkled her nose and snarled her lips. She held the pose, waiting to hear his evaluation, but instead she heard a click and, although she couldn't focus on anything with her eyes crossed, the bright flash of the camera bulb told her all she needed to know. He had once again caught her completely off guard.

"Booth!" She turned her fiery eyes down at him, only to feel him turn her head back towards the glass window across from them.

"Couldn't resist," he laughed as their smiling eyes met in the mirror once again and he grinned, mentally counting down in his head. "Smile," he said through his teeth, watching as her lips curled into a playful grin just as the second photo was taken.

"Pay back's a canine, Booth." She gritted with an elbow to his ribs gently.

"That's not the way the saying goes, Bones…" He held her a little closer and turned to look at her as she continued to face forward. "And you know it," he whispered against her cheek, feeling her body tremble as a shiver ran down her spine. He nuzzled his nose into the loose hair just behind her ear. Taking another bold step, he pressed a soft kiss against the milky skin of her neck just as picture three was captured.

"Booth," she whispered and turned to look down at him. She knew what was about to happen and the metaphorical butterflies caged within her abdomen erupted. She didn't know if she should be jumping up and running, or falling into her partner with her eyes wide open. "What are you-"

He silenced her, "shh." His free hand came up and cupped her neck, remaining below her jawline and ensuring he wouldn't block her profile from the camera. Stretching slightly, he brushed his nose against hers, still mentally counting down. Tightening his fingers on both hands, one pressing into the flesh of her hip and the other simply cradling her throat, he pressed his lips to hers, stifling any further argument from his date.

Photo four snapped just as Brennan's eyes fluttered closed, responding to Booth's lips, but neither partner heard the telltale click. They ignored the flash as he tugged on her bottom lip, silently asking for permission and, as their mouths became reacquainted, they didn't realize their second strip of photos was ready to be extracted from the dispenser.

**Postscript A/N**

**So... He finally gave in and kissed her! About damn time, Booth!**

**Now, before you go getting all up in arms about my portrayal of Brennan, especially in this chapter, remember at the start of this fic I acknowledged that Brennan may be a bit OC. We never really saw her on a date in the show. Sure we saw **_**that **_**she dated and we had tiny, minuscule glimpses into a couple of dates, but never an in-depth examination of her behavior on an actual date. And even though she and Booth know each other better than anyone else, there is still so much unexplored territory that they have to traverse, I believe there would have been a definite element of shyness. I have no doubts that, at this point in their relationship, they were both wary of the potential loss they'd experience if things went south, especially Brennan, being socially awkward...** **I truly believe that little snippets into her history would come out in quiet, hesitant confessions. So that is why I've written her in this way. I wanted to proactively catch those of you who enjoy pointing out shortcomings in my portrayals, so there you have it. **

**Please review and let me know your thoughts as I have given you mine. **

**peace &amp; love, my friends**

**~jazzy**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N Welcome back!**

**Thank you for the overwhelming response to my last chapter. Wow, you guys really liked the photo booth scene! LOL! It was fun to write.**

**Well, we *do* need to wrap up our favorite duo's date, so why don't we see where they take us now? *wink* I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Bones or make any moo-lah from my little story. The storyline and original characters are mine, but nothing else!**

Brennan's eyes fluttered open as the first rays of the rising sun peeked through her curtains, caressing her pale skin with the promising warmth of a new day. Her eyes squinted into the light for a few moments as she tried to get her bearings and shake off the sleepiness that urged her to roll over and bury her head beneath the covers for another hour or so. Struggling to remember her dream, but certain it was a good one, she wrinkled her brow, angry at the day for disturbing her peaceful slumber. Then, as she stretched beneath the lightweight sheet that was draped across her body, the cobwebs of sleep cleared, and she realized that it hadn't been a dream at all.

She had been on a date with her partner the night before.

And he kissed her.

And she kissed him back.

Repeatedly.

And they had photographic proof...

_Crowding against him as he tried to unlock the door, Brennan nipped at Booth's neck, just below his ear, suddenly unable, and unwilling, to stop, now that she had the permission to do so. She couldn't seem to get enough of his spicy, masculine skin, practically wanting to devour him... Pushing her through the open door, his strong hands cupped her hips and shoved her against the wall of his room, ripping his throat from her suction, his own lips descended on hers._

_She swallowed his feral growl and moaned in response, encouraging him with her willing participation. Chasing his tongue back into his mouth, Brennan pressed up to her tip-toes, wanting to be as physically close as possible, wishing she could crawl beneath his skin and fuse herself to his strong body permanently… Wishing she could defy the law of physics... When he arched his neck back, to pull away only slightly, she let him, tilting her head to the side, somehow knowing his focus was quickly moving to her throat._

_Booth's body strained to be closer as he sandwiched his partner against the entrance wall of his hotel room. He could hear his heart beating wildly in his own ears, feel the blood pumping through his veins while his muscles thrummed, vibrating with raw need. She was so pliable beneath his hands, so willing and so eager...giving back as much as she was receiving, perhaps more._

'_The flood gates have opened,' the thought flitted through his lust-filled brain. 'Dear, God, help me... Don't let me fuck this up…'_

_His hands had gravitated from her hips, where he'd been pinning her against himself, up to her rib cage. Splaying wide, the agent covered as much bodily real estate as he possibly could, his fingers stretching and spreading wider, pressing firmer with each passing second. The concerning notion that he might be leaving hand-print-shaped bruises on her pale skin evaporated into the ether when he felt her long, toned leg start to wrap itself around his. Instinctively, Booth shifted his stance, pressing his thigh to the juncture where those very same limber limbs met her body, and his brain practically exploded when he felt the heat emanating from her core. Through his own jeans, her capris and whatever scrap of material served as her panties for the evening, the fire was undeniable, and he hiked his leg up a little higher, giving her the pressure he knew she wanted._

_When Brennan felt Booth's body shift, she had a fleeting nanosecond of panic that he was pulling away, but she quickly realized he was simply repositioning, and she fell further into the kiss, into his sure hold and sturdy body. Gripping his broad shoulders, she flexed her fingers into the firm muscles carefully hidden from view beneath his blue Guayabera shirt. His impressive build may have been hidden from public view, but she knew what he looked like and finally her skilled fingers could map his defined musculature knowingly. Just as she was about to move her hand lower, wanting to pop the buttons and disrobe him of the cumbersome clothing, the scientist felt her partner's knee hike against her core, sending shock waves through her body. Letting her head fall against the wall as her eyes rolled back in their sockets, Brennan mewed, appreciating the sudden assault of Booth's warm, wet mouth on her throat, his wide hands holding her steady and his thick leg pressing up against her body. Momentarily forgetting that her goal was to get her partner naked, she simply rode the waves of pleasure that were overwhelming her body as her hips moved without conscious permission, grinding against Booth's denim-clad leg._

_It had been nearly eighteen months since anyone, other than herself, had tended to the call of her biological needs and the 'scientist' within was suddenly quiet and dormant, while the healthy woman rose to the surface with a vengeance. The combination of his touch, his distinct, comforting scent and the mere fact that she knew, even if she couldn't yet admit it openly, that she __**belonged **__to Booth, sent her hurdling closer to the edge, courtesy of the mind-blowing pressure he was providing. Gasping for breath, she moaned his name as her body trembled fiercely, uncontrollably, and she simply held onto his biceps for support, knowing she would slide down to the floor in a metaphorical puddle of goo if she were to let go._

_For Booth, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, watching his partner finally shatter at his touch. When she started moving against him, basically humping his leg and panting his name, he slowed his kisses and pulled back slightly, so he could watch her. He dropped tiny kisses at the corners of her parted lips, and helped her set a pace as she gyrated against him. He watched in amazement as her face flushed a pretty shade of pink, the color rising from somewhere beneath her blouse, hidden from his view, for now. His hungry, dark eyes drank her in as she sucked her lower lip into her mouth, and he could see her throat working to swallow, struggling in between labored breaths. Pressing the bulk of his weight against her, he breathed against her ear, his tongue darting out quickly to taste her adorably tiny lobe._

_"Cum for me, Bones. Let go, Baby."_

_His gentle command was all the encouragement she needed as the telltale sensation washed over her body, sending her plummeting over the elusive cliff, his rich baritone voice still ringing through her head as she felt herself falling, her fingers digging deep into his arms to him for support. "Booth," she barely uttered as she came apart, recognizing, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she'd never been with a man who could bring her so far, so quickly, while remaining completely clothed. Desperate to steady her breathing and calm her racing pulse, Brennan gulped for air, trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened while gauging how quickly she could make it happen again._

_Booth watched as her eyelids fluttered, and she lifted her head from the wall, trying to focus in on his face. Bringing his hands up, the agent cradled her delicate jaw with a tenderness befitting his feelings for his partner. "My God, Bones," he pressed a kiss to her bee-stung lips, "you are so gorgeous." He kissed her slow and long, tasting her, wishing he could somehow consume her. "So fucking beautiful..."_

_She swallowed the compliment, moving her soft lips against his masculine, slightly chapped mouth. She slipped her tongue against the silky sweetness of his, no longer fighting against the inner-will that had, for so many years, forced her to ignore her baser instincts when it came to her partner. Her wandering hands started smoothing down his chest, inching towards the row of opalescent buttons. Just as her fingers touched the top enclosure, the shrill sound of her cell phone shattered the otherwise quiet room._

_Hoping to God that is was simply a wrong number, the agent pressed forward, forcing her tighter against the wall. He grabbed her hands and wove his fingers between hers, pulling her arms above their shoulders, where they, too, found themselves quickly sandwiched. Trying to ignore the second and third ring of the phone, his mouth slid from her lips to her ear just as he felt her growing restless with concern for the phone. "Let it ring, Bones..."_

_"It..." She swallowed thickly when she felt his tongue trace the outer shell of her ear. "It could be the lab..."_

_"They'll leave a message." Ignoring the call further, he rocked his hips, pressing his growing need into her lower tummy._

_"It could be about a case." She struggled against her biological desire and her need to answer the call, adhering to her strict work ethic._

_"There's no case." He didn't want to think about bodies... Not dead bodies, anyway... He just wanted to think about Brennan's body, writhing in ecstasy beneath his... _

_"There might be..." She knew if it was his phone ringing, he would answer it... She knew him better than he realized. "What if it was your phone?"_

_Frustrated that she could pin him so perfectly, he released one of her hands, so she could reach into her pocket and retrieve the offensive intrusion. But he wasn't going to retreat so easily... Nuzzling the side of her neck, he hummed in appreciation when she thrust back against him in attempts to catch her breath._

_"B-" she forgot what she was doing as she held the phone against the side of her face. Booth's wide hand, now freed from holding her's hostage, gravitated to her breast, where it covered her completely, squeezing gently as he nipped at their tender skin covering her Suprasternal notch. "Bre-" She remembered she was supposed to determine who was calling and the nature of their interruption, but she couldn't breathe._

_"Bren?" The sniffling was unmistakable. "I'm so sorry," a tiny sob escaped. "Did I wake you?"_

_"Ange?" Brennan's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" She tried to calm her racing heart as Booth pulled back, hearing what she had said. "Is it the baby?"_

_Booth straightened his posture, releasing his partner from his vice-like grip, alarmed that Angela was calling so late. "What happened?" He whispered softly, pulling her towards the chair, so she could sit._

_Brennan shrugged at Booth's question. "Angela?" She said carefully into the phone. "Ange, what is happening?"_

_"No, it's not the baby... It's fine, I'm fine... We're all fine..."_

_A fresh burst of tears echoed through the phone line and Brennan pulled the phone away from her face and stared at it in disbelief. Putting it back up to her face, her signature 'v' deepened between her eyebrows. "Angela, if the baby is fine, and you are fine... And apparently Hodgins is fine... Why are you calling me? Crying?"_

_"I don't know!" The artist groaned woefully into her cell, upset for no reason and needing her best friend's reassurance._

_Sighing, Brennan felt her shoulders slump. "Angela..." She closed her eyes to calm herself and opened them slowly while shaking her head at Booth. "Ange, I'm not good at emotional consultation... You __know_ _that!"_

_"I just wanted to hear your voice..." Angela was certain that she must have woken Brennan, because it was blatantly apparent that her best friend was upset with her. "I just..."_

_Brennan failed miserably at hiding her annoyance. "Look, Angela…. It's not a good time," she gritted her teeth, but to no avail… The emotional artist kept babbling and Brennan kept nodding, regardless that her oldest friend couldn't see her._

_Realizing what was happening, Booth let a rueful laugh escape. He pushed back up to his feet from where he had been squatting in front of his seated partner. Dropping a kiss on top of her head, he whispered a greeting. "Tell Ange I said Hello." He stood to his full height, winking at Brennan's sorrowful gaze. Walking over to his dresser, he pulled out a pair of clean boxers and walked into the bathroom, clicking the door closed after one last, longing glance at his partner as she played the dutiful BFF._

_B/B/B/B_

_Opening the bathroom door and hearing silence, Booth realized that Brennan must have gone back over to her own room. He tossed his dirty laundry in the designated bag and towel-dried his head as he sauntered over to the open door, where he popped his head through to her space. Not seeing her sitting on the chairs or on the balcony, he turned towards the front of her room and saw that her bathroom door was closed as echoing sounds of his partner's wordless song reached his ears. Content to just listen for a bit, Booth leaned on the door jam and stared at the closed door, imagining her body glistening beneath the warm cascade of water. When he heard the shower stop, he sighed, wishing that Angela's call hadn't interrupted them, but knowing that it might have been for the better. He had planned their first date to be fun, charming and light… And it __had_ _been all those things… Until the photo booth when he pulled her onto his lap… he should have known better… _

_His plan for the evening had never been for them to sleep together; his partner deserved to be respected, to be taken on a date without the expectation of sex at the end of the night. He didn't want her to view him in the same light that she would have viewed any other date… He wanted more than a roll in the sack, and he needed to make sure she understood that she meant more to him than that._

_He moved over to the edge of her bed, tossing his towel on the chair back as he passed. Picking up the Anthropology Journal that he had been reading earlier, he flipped through a few of the pages, mostly looking at the images and advertisements, just passing the time until she rejoined him. When he heard the bathroom door open, he looked up at his fresh-faced, breathtaking best friend and smiled._

"_Hey."_

_Brennan smiled at seeing him in her room, wearing only his boxers and a faded Pink Floyd t-shirt. "Hi." She moved across the space, tilting her head as she approached. "I'm sorry, Booth…"_

_He tossed the magazine aside and reached for her hand, bringing her to stand between his parted knees. The agent shook his head gently and smiled. "Don't be, Bones. Obviously Angela needed you… Is she alright?" He ran his thumb across the silky skin of her hand and studied her expression._

_Looking down into the most understanding, kindest eyes she'd ever known, Brennan sighed. "Yes," she shifted her weight to one hip and stepped as close as possible. "I believe that Angela is experiencing an excessive onslaught of hormonal changes, resulting in extreme emotional inconsistencies. Currently, her estrogen levels are approximately triple what they would be even at the peak of her menstrual cycle… Pregnancy causes an increased secretion of hormonal cocktails… It's very inconvenient... She really didn't seem to __**need**_ _anything, and most of the time she was just crying…" Brennan huffed through her nose and launched into a rapid recap. "She saw a commercial for something called sham-wow, which I don't even know what it is, but apparently she started crying because the person advertising the product reminded her of a character in a movie she saw as a child and in the movie, the child made a miraculous recovery from certain death, defying whatever disease he had, and went on to live a healthy, successful life with children of his own…" She rolled her eyes. "I didn't even know what to say to her, I don't know the commercial she was talking about, I don't know the movie to which she referred…" Swallowing thickly, she fought against embarrassment. "I am not good at consoling someone who is upset for legitimate reasons, let alone illogical, irrational emotional breakdowns at televised advertisements!"_

_Booth chuckled and tugged her hand, bringing her fingers up to his lips. "Was she still crying when you hung up?" He brought his empty hand up to her thigh, rubbing the exposed skin lightly, appreciative of her pale yellow sleep-shorts._

"_No. I told her about the dolphins we saw… Well, that made her cry a little, too, she said because it was such a beautiful thing… But then she laughed when I told her about skee-ball and our little tournament. And about the prize I picked with our tickets. And when I mentioned that we considered tonight a 'date', she squealed, said something about our date making her the happiest woman on earth and she promptly said she loved me and hung up…" The scientist wrinkled her brow in frustration. "It was all quite confusing… Why would __**our**_ _date make __**her**_ _happy and how can she go from crying over a commercial to squealing about skee-ball?! And I __still_ _don't even know what she wanted!"_

_Booth smiled up at her, adoring her confusion and her baffled innocence. "I think she's probably just happy that we, you and I, were __**actually**_ _on a __**date**__, Bones." Dropping her fingers, he mirrored his other hand, cupping her leg to hold her near. "And as far as what she wanted…" He shrugged once. "I imagine you gave her exactly what she wanted." He jostled her lightly by moving his knees side to side, bumping into her legs. "She wanted to talk to her best friend…" Sweeping his thumbs across her kneecaps, he winked. "I know I always feel better after talking to you…"_

_Brennan blushed uncharacteristically, feeling particularly feminine in Booth's eyes. "Booth," she whined quietly draped her hands on his shoulders. "I think that's a little different…" She bent down and brushed her lips against his grin._

_Accepting her kiss, he tugged lightly at her lower lip before releasing her. "Well," one side of his mouth curled up in synchronization with his shoulder. "Maybe it's a little different." He shifted his feet and stood up, dragging his hands up to her hips, where he squeezed her tenderly. "Thanks for tonight, Bones…" He leaned in for another kiss continuing to speak against her mouth. "Probably the most amazing first date I've ever had…"_

_Surprised that he was saying good night, Brennan worried immediately that he was upset with her, despite the fact that he was kissing her. After he pulled his mouth back, she looked up with concerned eyes. "But, Booth… Don't you want to…" She tilted her head sideways a little, motioning to the bed… "I mean, you didn't really have the opportunity to-"_

"_It's ok, Bones," he cut her sentence short before she squintified what had happened between them. When he saw the dejected look pass behind her eyes before she schooled her features, he pulled her closer to him. "It's not that I don't __want_ _to… Because you have no idea how badly I want to… But it's getting late, we have an early session tomorrow… And what I want to do will take far too long…" Before she could interject with her nerdy facts on the average time it takes for a man to reach climax, he kissed her again. When he was sure she had forgotten her statistical argument, he slid him mouth along her jawline, until his lips reached her ear. "Because," he felt her shudder at his breathiness, "what I want to do with you is take my time… I want to learn everything there is about you… About your body... and what makes you purr…" His tongue poked out, lapping her earlobe lightly. "I want to see you, feel you, taste you… __All_ _of you…" His hands slipped under her soft cotton shirt, sweeping across the sensitive skin of her lower back. "And when we finally make love, I am going to watch you fall apart in my arms, all around me, with my name dripping from your sweet lips…"_

_Brennan's mind was blank. For once in her life, she was utterly speechless… And breathless… And, it would appear, boneless, as her body swayed and leaned against her sure-footed partner, trusting him to keep her upright. "Hmm…" She hummed, unable to form a coherent sentence._

"_And when we set that rhythm…That __perfect_ _rhythm that I know we'll have, and we're challenging your laws of physics… I don't wanna be worried about waking up in time to make an eight o'clock session in the morning…"_

_Still unable to speak, she simply nodded, rubbing her cheek along his freshly-shaven jaw._

"_But what you gave me tonight? The privilege of bringing you to the brink and back… That's the stuff that fantasies are made of… So I'll be dreaming of you tonight… And I can only hope that you'll be thinking of me, too…" Nipping her neck softly before soothing it with a kiss, he pulled back and looked down at her face, studying the way her eyes were closed and her lips were parted as she tried to regulate her breath. "I've never seen anyone so beautiful, Bones… In every sense of the word…"_

_Lifting her eyelids to look up into his warm, chocolate browns, Temperance Brennan suddenly understood what she'd been hearing about her whole life… The whole world could have crumbled away, and she wouldn't have cared… She only cared to be with this one man, this singular human being who, she innately knew, could make her __more_ _than content for the rest of her life… All the romantic talk that Angela had spewed over the years, which the scientist had discounted as fantasy and ephemeral, about sunsets and soul mates and caring more for someone else than you do for yourself… All of that suddenly became clear to the Anthropologist and she felt a tear, of relief perhaps (?), stinging the back of her eye._

_Bringing her hands up to Booth's strong, distinguished jaw, Brennan held him steady as she pressed up and covered his mouth with hers, hungrily taking whatever she could get. She knew he what he wanted from her, and it wasn't just sex… This was not a basic 'precursor date'… She knew that Booth had taken her out on a date because he wanted everything… He wanted her to know that he cared, that he respected her and now, when she was basically offering herself to him, right there on her bed, he was bidding her a good night because he didn't want to cheapen their perfect night with a hasty romp in bed. Sure, he had let her ride his leg after they tumbled through the door of his room, but she knew that he, too, had been caught up in the heavy petting and necking… And while she had absolutely no doubts that, had Angela __not_ _called, they would have happily ended up in bed, the mere fact that he respected her enough to metaphorically 'call it a night' after the mood had been broken, left her dumbfounded and dazzled. She couldn't yet voice it, but she was certain that she loved her partner._

_And she knew that her partner loved her in return._

_So, after a long, drawn-out 'good night' kiss (accompanied by more than a few unapologetic gropes), she crawled between her cool sheets and watched him disappear through their connecting doors. With the promise hanging in the air that 'soon' he would trust himself enough to lay with her, she smiled and slipped into a peaceful sleep._

And, as she batted away the remnants of sleep, she smiled, knowing that she had dreamt about him, just like he'd hoped.

Anxious to see her partner, Brennan pushed her sheets down, suddenly unable to wait until daylight filled the room. Padding quietly across the floor, the scientist held her breath as she peeked through the open doorway. Pale eyes swept the room, seeing Booth's rumpled sheets and blanket piled at the foot end of the bed, but the man was missing. Glancing at the bathroom door, she saw the room was dark, so she turned her attention to his balcony. The tension she didn't know had developed in her shoulders dissipated as soon as she saw him.

He was sitting upright in his hammock, straddling the mesh, as he looked out over the ocean. Brennan stood silently, studying his shadowed profile and her mind drifted back to a conversation she'd had with Booth on more than one occasion…

"_Define 'love', as you see it…" She challenged her partner, certain that he wouldn't be able to verbalize the ephemeral emotion._

_Booth studied her intense gaze, rolling his options around in his head. Coming to a decision, he nodded once. "Ok…" He licked his lips, rolling them between his teeth briefly. "Love is when you go to sleep thinking of that person, wake up thinking of that person and somewhere in between, dream about that person… Love is when you can't wait to share a new piece of news with that one person… Or you simply want to sit quietly and just enjoy their company, with no need for words or conversation…"_

Brennan smiled softly and walked through Booth's room, aiming to join him on the balcony. When she reached the open sliding door, she paused, hesitating in wonder if she would be welcome in his solitude.

The agent knew she was there before she made noise. He couldn't explain it, he was never able to, but he always seemed to know. Turning his head, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her unruly bed-head-hair and sleepy eyes. "Hey," he said quietly, extending his hand back to her. "C'mon."

"Good morning," she replied, just as softly, eagerly accepting his outstretched fingers. "Am I interrupting…?"

He tugged her until she stepped over the hammock and straddled it as well, sitting down in front of him, in the open "v" of his legs. Pulling her back against his chest, he shook his head slightly, palming her tummy. "Nope."

She settled back against him, inhaling his comforting scent while holding his arm to her body. After several quiet moments, as they watched the sun rising across the water, Brennan broke the silence.

"Did you sleep alright? You're up early…"

"Yep." He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "But I wanted to see the sunrise." Resting his cheek against hers, his warm voice washed over her. "You sleep ok?"

Unable to hide the blush that crept across her pale skin at his tender kiss, Brennan simply hummed. "I slept _very_ well, thank you..." She wove her fingers between his. "I dreamt about you…"

"Good dream, I hope?" his eyebrow cocked playfully.

"Mmm," she uttered noncommittally, smiling coyly as she continued to look out over the beach. Another several minutes passed without comment when she spoke again. "I think it was because I fell asleep thinking of you… of us…"

"Hmmm…" Booth thought about what she said.

"Annnnd….I woke up thinking of you too…" She sounded shy, hesitant.

Letting a sly smile curl his lips, Booth nudged her ear with his nose, more than pleased with her confession. Taking a chance he was finally comfortable with, he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her tanktop, brushing against the silky skin of her stomach. Resting his lips on her shoulder, he raised his eyes to the colorful sky. "I love you, too, Bones," he whispered softly.

**Postscript A/N**

**Well, jeez, who wouldn't think of Booth morning and night after working together for all these years?! *sigh***

**I hope you enjoyed.**

**Please let me know what you thought, I love hearing from you all!**

**peace &amp; love, my friends,**

**~jazzy**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N Hello and welcome back! Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter proof-read and edited; work has been keeping me incredibly busy as my shift has changed,** _**yet again**_… ***sigh* **

**I was hoping that this chapter would end up a little longer, but I had to cut a portion out for inconsistencies. With any luck, when I proof the next chapter, it will be a little longer for those of you who prefer the longer chapters. **

**Disclaimer: Nope…. I still own nothing except for my little story line! **

The partners entered the banquet hall side by side, greeting people as they moved to the table that had been unofficially claimed by the Hoover teammates. Feeling far more at ease than she had just a couple days before, Brennan immediately smiled warmly at Genevieve Shaw and Janet Soto as they approached.

"Good morning, Agent Shaw, Agent Soto." While the anthropologist was more comfortable with the women, she was still socially awkward and uncertain of protocol, so she started to extend her hand in greeting, only to pull it back immediately when she saw Booth simply nod as he greeted his colleagues.

"Good morning, Dr. Brennan," Shaw smiled, somewhat surprised at the initiated greeting from the scientist. "Y'know, you can call me Jenny if you want. Or just Shaw. There is no need to be so formal." The young agent was conducting an experiment of sorts, for her own amusement.

"Oh," Brennan flushed, unsure if it would be professionally acceptable to address one of her partner's subordinates in such a familiar manner. "Alright…" Her pale eyes flashed to her partner, who was already engaged in conversation with Agent Thompson, the two men discussing a sporting event that occurred the night before. "Shaw…" She spoke quietly, rolling the singular name off her tongue, as if testing how it felt. "Jenny…" She nodded, more to herself than to anyone else.

Shaw watched in patient silence as the woman who had once terrified her tested the waters of familiarity. She stifled a smile, not wanting Brennan to think she was laughing at her. Just as she was about to rescue the scientist, telling her that whatever she was most comfortable with would be fine, Brennan interrupted.

"Good morning, _Jenny_." She nodded once with a smile. "And," she thought carefully, struggling with letting go of her professional image, the one thing that set her apart from everyone else in the room. "When we are in social settings, I don't mind if you address me as…" She swallowed nervously. "Dr. B… Or Temperance…. Or Tempe..." She felt it necessary to quantify the boundaries. "But anytime we are on the job, at a crime scene or the Hoover, or at the lab if you ever find yourself there, I would prefer if it you would please maintain professionalism, and address me as Dr. Brennan." Raising her eyebrows quickly, she continued. "I will, naturally, observe the same guidelines, addressing you as Agent Shaw while working… You worked hard to earn your title, as did I, and you deserve the respect that accompanies your status."

Shocked and amazed, Shaw felt the corners of her lips curl into a smile. "Of course, I wouldn't dream otherwise."

Brennan grinned, feeling as if she had been transported back to college, when she was just meeting new people. Turning her attention to Soto, she nodded. "And, although we have just met this weekend, we will no doubt cross paths again, Agent Soto… If you are comfortable with a similar arrangement, I do not mind if you wish to follow the same guidelines..."

Janet's face broke out into an eager smile. "Yes, please!" When they were preparing to come to the convention, Shaw had warned her about Booth's genius-partner, and how she was most often viewed as cold or distant. But in her limited exposure to the forensic anthropologist, Soto suspected the woman was grossly misunderstood. "Please, call me Janet. I can't seem to get used to people calling me by my last name."

Brennan bowed her head in understanding and suddenly felt a pair of familiar eyes looking at her. Turning her head, she saw Booth smiling, and it was obvious he had overheard the conversation, even while being engrossed in his passionate debate about the outcome of Sunday night's game. Recognizing the look on his face as one of approval, she swallowed a chuckle and turned her attention to greeting some of the other agents circling the table, though she made no effort to become more familiar with anyone else. Somewhere deep inside, despite the feeling of accomplishment at her newfound companionship with the two women claiming the chairs to her right, she still held firmly to her professional persona, and she didn't want to relinquish that to anyone else for a while.

As the food trolleys started rolling into the room, Booth and Brennan settled in their seats among his subordinates and counterparts from other divisions. An air of camaraderie was present and everyone tucked into their breakfast selections as dishes were distributed by the many servers assigned to the conference. Bumping her shoulder gently, Booth gave Brennan a knowing wink, happy to see she was loosening up around a couple of his agents. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before she was confident enough to speak freely, without setting metaphorical barriers and guidelines, but he was pleased to see her progress thus far. Conversations volleyed relatively easily amongst the various agents during breakfast and once the food was consumed, the moderators of the convention called attention to the front of the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Simmons stood before the crowd. "Good morning." He smiled broadly, feeling a sense of commonality radiating from the attendees. "We hope you all had a wonderful afternoon of rest and relaxation yesterday. We know many of you took advantage of the beautiful pool and spa, not to mention the warm sands of our beach," he chuckled at the reaction as several folks clapped in response. "And, I understand that quite an intense beach volleyball tournament had formed out there by early evening…" Another, more raucous response erupted from several tables as the highly competitive participants of the game fistpumped the air and shared high-fives with one another. "Whatever you ended up doing, hopefully the reprieve left you all refreshed and ready for a great week of break-out sessions."

He nodded to his assistant, and the large monitors on either side of the stage flickered to life. Random pictures of agents partaking in various activities from the day before flashed across the screens. There were images of the aforementioned volleyball game, several of people swimming &amp; sitting poolside raising drinks in cheer, the group of jet-skiers that had invited Brennan to join them, shots of people lined up side by side on stationary bikes and treadmills in the hotel gym and finally, the image of Booth and Brennan on a wave-runner following a small family pod of dolphins. As the various photos flashed up, people clapped and laughed, reliving the fun they had the day before. Simmons regained the attention of the attendees, reining them back into order.

"We also have the updated scores for our..._friendly _competition." He grinned as people simultaneously laughed and groaned. Turning to the monitor, he watched as candid photo collages of Sunday morning's group session scrolled past. "Several teams successfully earned points for participating, and many of you were even awarded bonus points for sharing your thoughts with the group. Some of the positive feedback and comments we heard about Dr. Lance Sweets' exercise included 'cathartic,' 'enlightening,' and 'surprising.' Now," he glanced around the room, "without any further ado, I give you the updated rankings of the top three teams…"

B/B/B/B

"Just because they didn't like the _way_ we participated doesn't mean we should be punished by not being awarded points." Brennan was angry to learn that they had been completely bumped from the top three teams as a result of their very public explosion the previous morning. She balked while allowing Booth to guide her towards the meeting room where Mickey's first session was taking place. "When you really think about it, we should have so many points and be so far in the lead that no one can catch us… Surely we made the _most_ progress of everyone…" She grumbled as he ushered her towards the back of the room, aiming at the very last row.

"It's ok, Bones. You know it doesn't really win us anything, right? I mean, it's just a dumb contest…"

Halting abruptly, Brennan about-faced, causing Booth to practically plow into her. "Bones," he grabbed her biceps to steady her.

Never one to be dissuaded from her thoughts, the anthropologist ignored his questioning eyes and pushed her finger against his chest. "It _does_ mean something, Booth! Anthropologically speaking, the other attendees of this conference will view the winning team with respect… A team that is worthy of admiration...one which deserves all the accolades that accompany such a station of social and societal standard... Your success within the ranks of the FBI is almost unprecedented. You certainly hold the record in recent history for the fastest rate at which you progressed from Junior Field Agent to Senior Field Agent and most recently, Agent in Charge of Major Crimes in one of the busiest and burdensome field offices in the US. _You_ hold that distinction, Booth." She squared her shoulders, unable to hide the pride she felt in praising him of his successes. "And this, as you call it, _meaningless_ contest is your way to show some of these younger, less experienced agents that it is possible to achieve said greatness," a gentle curl raised one corner of her mouth as her nose turned up in indignation. "Not to mention what a superb opportunity it would be to prove just how wrong those nay-sayers were, when they said a partnership forged between the Federal Government and the Jeffersonian would be a waste of time and resources…"

Booth stood there, dumbfounded and grinning like a fool at her spiel. It took all his energy to not grab her and kiss her senseless. It was times like this, when she was passionate about proving a point, that her eyes took on a glowing quality and her cheeks were touched with just the right amount of pink energy, that he thought she looked most beautiful. Of course, that's not to take away from all the other times he thought she was gorgeous… In an evening gown with her hair and make-up done _just so_… or in her running shorts and t-shirt with a sloppy ponytail bouncing crookedly atop her head… or squinting into a magnifier, wearing the blue lab coat that he used to hate, until he became jealous of it after watching her move and noticed the way it hugged her curves teasingly… _Yeah_, Booth thought to himself, _she's beautiful no matter what she's doing… Like that time we were under my sink at home, fixing the broken pipe… And I could smell her perfume, and our lips were so very close…_

"Booth?"

Her prod against his arm shook him from his reverie and he broadened his smile, unable to hide his appreciation for his partner. "Yeah, ok," he winked, feeling the flow of people streaming in around them. "C'mon," he tugged her again, forcing her to turn around, and he steered them on course once again. "Here," he pointed at two seats towards the center of the row, where they'd have a good view of the entire room. When they were seated, he eyed her and bumped his shoulder against hers. Leaning closer, he kept his voice low as he nodded in greeting at a small group of agents who moved into the seats in front of them. "If it's that important, I promise to put forth a better effort."

Smiling at her victory, she nodded once. "Thank you."

Before they could continue their conversation, Booth felt the heat of someone sit directly on his other side. Turning his attention away from his partner, he found Marcus and Reggie sitting in their row as well.

"Hey, man," Marcus smiled and then nodded to Brennan. "Good morning, Doc." Without seeing the insulted expression wash across Brennan's face at her shortened title, he looked back at Booth. "Sorry to see you guys fell so far in the rankings… That sucks, huh?"

The taunting grin told Booth that his _pal_ was anything but sorry. Quickly remembering why he was less than sorry to lose Marcus as a partner, Booth cocked an eyebrow. "Enjoy your third place position while you have it, Gray." A confident smile overtook his features. "Bones and I'll be back on top before the end of the week," leaning back in his chair, he smirked. "And once we're back in first, looks like you'll be bumped off the list completely…"

Marcus chuckled. "Competitive much, Booth?" He folded his hands across his lap as he, too, leaned back in his seat. Thinking back, not for the first time since reuniting with Booth on Friday, Marcus wondered how his career might have been different if he had stayed in DC. When he left the Hoover, Gray was certain he was making the smarter move by going than Booth was for staying. Their short-lived partnership was strained and their friendship dynamic had resembled a roller coaster when still working together. Marcus found Booth to be too controlling and oftentimes arrogant, and the friction between the two made their working relationship more stressful than necessary. Of course, once the slightly younger man made his move, he found that he butted heads with almost every partner with whom he'd been assigned. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the success that Booth had seemingly fallen effortlessly into… He wondered if it was all a result of his partnership with Brennan, or if the AIC of Major Crimes really did shine so brightly on his own. He glimpsed at the man who was his first partner on the force, noting the confident expression on his face. "I see you haven't changed much, huh?"

"Hey," Booth shrugged one shoulder. "If it ain't broke… Don't fix it…." He grinned, having heard through the grapevine that Gray still felt a specific competitive streak against him, even though they no longer worked together. "Don't worry, we won't crush you guys too bad..."

He grunted in response, recognizing the unwavering confidence that he remembered from a decade earlier. Turning to face his own partner, Reggie, Marcus tilted his head towards Booth and Brennan. "I guess we better step up if we want to stay on top. Somethin' tells me these guys are gonna open up a can of whoop-ass, here, real soon..."

The slightly older man nodded, having met the legendary duo only briefly on that first evening at the bar. "Well, we'd best get serious, then, huh?" He tried to sound optimistic, knowing full well that they, like many other partners in attendance, had plenty of room to grow despite having worked together for nearly two years.

The noise in the room died down as Michael Mitchell stepped onto the raised platform at the head of the room. Although he was an older man, his presence was still quite imposing and it was obvious that he was ex-military. As Brennan silently observed the reverence and respect that the audience paid to the man her partner simply referred to as 'Mickey', she let her mind wander. Thinking back to just two days prior, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she remembered the way her comments to her partner's former Army-comrade could very easily have been misconstrued. Settling into her chair, she briefly looked at Booth, noting the smile ghosting his lips as his friend commanded the room with ease. Studying her partner's handsome profile, the scientist simply watched Booth while listening to Mickey deliver his opening comments. She mentally catalogued scars and skin imperfections that she'd been memorizing for years, but for most of which she didn't know the history. The tiny scar on his left temple, she knew was the result of one of his father's drunken rages… The evidence of stitches over his right eyebrow was compliments of a street hockey game played in as a youth in Philadelphia. But as the anthropologist's eyes skated over his masculine skin, she realized there was so much more she wanted to know about Booth… Things she intended to spend years learning, as long as he would let her…

Feeling an owley pair of eyes watching him, Booth slowly turned to look at his partner, catching her blues instantly. He didn't know what she was thinking, but when her cheeks grew pink and her soft lips curled into a gentle smile, his chest grew warm and his hands itched to touch her. Winking, he purposely broke the spell, knowing they needed to pay attention to Mickey's session.

"Folks, thank you for signing up for _Overcoming Differences: Continuing to Grow a Successful Partnership_. This session, in case you didn't read the summary, is geared towards partnerships that are established with at least 15 months of experience." Mickey took a few brief moments to study the attendees. When his eyes settled on the pair seated in the center of the very last row, he struggled to hide his grin. While everyone else seemed to be paying attention, or at least the bulk of them gave off a relatively convincing appearance of interest, the partners that held his brief scrutiny were focused solely on each other, before, through some silent conversation, their faces both swiveled back in his direction simultaneously. Continuing to move his eyes across the room, he sized up his audience, deciding on which of his two prepared lectures to deliver.

"As I'm sure you all have experienced at one time or another, perhaps even on multiple occasions, life can play terrible tricks on us. Fate can thrust two people together with complete disregard for their respective backgrounds or areas of expertise. You might struggle with finding your destiny, especially when faced with opposition and challenges day in and day out in the workplace …"

Involuntarily rolling her eyes, Brennan elbowed Booth in his ribs, getting his attention immediately. "Do _all _of you tough ex-Army-guys believe in such ideas as Fate and Destiny?" Her poorly whispered complaint reached the ears of those surrounding them, resulting in a collective chuckle erupting from the back of the room. Ignoring her compact audience, she leaned closer to her partner. "I was hoping his session would concentrate on topics of _tangibility…_."

Booth eyed her in disbelief. Closing into her personal space, he hissed at her interruption. "Shhh! Bones, stop. Just listen and behave, huh?" Sitting back into his seat again, he glared at a few agents nearby who were smirking at them before turning his attention back to Mickey. Despite the uninterrupted narrative, Booth was sure Mickey had heard the snickers from the back of the room. When he felt his partner's posture change, he knew she was about to find another fault with his friend's mention of 'trusting one's own instincts of _inner-voices_ and so-called _gut feelings_.' His head whipped around and he pinned her with a hard stare. "Stop," he flared his fingers wide, keeping his hand low, behind the seats in front of them. "_Pay attention_."

With a slight pout, she crossed her arms across her chest and flopped back into her seat. With a mulish expression she eyed Booth sideways, unable to allow him to have the last word, she leaned towards him again and growled through clenched teeth. "_Fine_. But we are going to talk about this later!"

Rolling his own eyes, Booth looked at her. "_Really?_ You wanna pick a fight with _me _over _Mickey's _lecture?" His whisper was harsh and he knew he needed to stop the conversation before it got out of hand, but he just couldn't believe his obstinate partner and her quirky habits of blaming _him_ for _other people's_ opinions. When he saw her take a breath he just held his hand up again. "You know what?" Once again, his whisper was more like a growl. "_Fine_. We'll talk about it _later_. _Not. Now._"

The scientist clamped her lips tight, breathing through flared nostrils. Nodding once, she cocked an eyebrow and turned back towards the front, refocusing her attention on the speaker. Suddenly aware that many pairs of eyes were on her and Booth, she moved her eyes around, finally settling on Mickey's impish grin at the front of the room. When she heard Booth groan and drop his head against the wall behind them, she knew he also realized they were disrupting the session.

Mickey cleared his throat, barely containing the humor he felt at his old friend's less-than-silent squabble. "Was there, uh, something you wanted to say, Booth?"

"No." There was no hesitation in the senior agent's response. Lifting his head upright, he was certain his cheeks were flaming red. "Nope, nothin'. Sorry."

"I have something to add," Brennan started to stand in place, only to be pulled back down to her seat.

"No ya don't, Bones." He grunted and tugged her hand. Raising his voice loud enough to reach Mickey, he shook his head. "Nope. We're good."

"Don't answer for me, Booth." She pulled her hand away and stood up quickly, so he couldn't stop her again. "Actually, there _is _something I'd like to say… I highly disagree with the notions of inner-voices or gut feelings. Isn't it irresponsible to instruct people to trust these phantom-instincts when clearly not everyone is born with such innate, _unproven_ abilities? And," she plowed on without giving Mickey a chance to reply. "The ideas of Fate and Destiny are absolutely ludicrous." She shifted her weight and tilted her head to the side. "One's own success is based on the level of dedication and amount of energy he or she invests into his or her own profession."

"Oh my, God…" Booth dropped his head into his hands, groaning in embarrassment. "_Please_ sit back down, Bones…." He felt his world crumbling down around him and all he wanted was for the earth to swallow him whole.

Turning her attention down to her partner, Brennan realized that she had, once again, let her emotions get the best of her and she was humiliating her partner. "Booth…"

"No, no," Mickey had walked halfway down the aisle, closing the distance between himself and the notorious partners. "Booth, it's OK. I'd like to hear what she has to say." Mickey was intrigued by Brennan's objections; it was so seldom that he received not only honest feedback, but a real challenge to his lectures. Shifting his attention to the anthropologist who was making her presence so well known, he extended his hand. "Please, Dr. Brennan, continue."

**Postscript A/N**

**Oh boy…. Brennan's opening her mouth pre-maturely and poor Booth was definitely not prepared… **

**I know not much happened in this chapter, but it was a necessary stepping stone for the continuation of our little tale here…**

**I'm looking forward to hearing from you all :) **

**As we enter December, and approach the end of 2015, I want to wish a Happy Holiday Season to those of you who celebrate, whichever holiday you might observe. If you don't celebrate a holiday, then all the best for a healthy solstice and successful 2016. The beauty of a forum like fanfic, in my opinion, is its ability to bring together, people from all walks of life, from different corners of the earth, with a common interest, a similar appreciation for the artform of creative writing and character exploration… Amateur writers like myself thrive on the feedback we receive from readers like you and I want to express my most sincere appreciation for those of you who have taken the time throughout 2015 to let me know your thoughts; I may have stopped writing several times over if not for some of your kind and encouraging words. **

**Sending hugs and love your way.**

**peace, my friends, **

**~jazzy **


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N Hello &amp; welcome back! And happy new year! When we last left our favorite duo, they were just getting settled in their first break-out session... And already Brennan was voicing her opinion... Let's rejoin them, shall we? **

**(Disclaimer... Really?! It hasn't changed since last chapter ... Unless someone high up on the Bones-food-chain gave me a Christmas present I didn't know about...)**

Brennan shifted her feet, somewhat awkwardly, realizing that she now held the attention of every single person in the room. Moving her pale gaze from right to left, she saw people turning in their seats, trying to find positions in which they could sit comfortably and observe her. Glancing down to Booth, she saw his dark eyes pinning her angrily, his elbows on his knees as he glared up from his seated position. In a fleeting instant, she felt the substantial progress they'd made towards their personal relationship falling apart…fractured in the center, precisely where she stood. Silently pleading with her partner to support her, she rolled her lips between her teeth and waited for him to acknowledge her need to be heard.

Taking a deep breath, Booth pushed upright in his seat, cocking an eyebrow, wondering if this little episode would succeed in getting them ejected from the conference altogether. Looking back up, he nodded once, silently sweeping an open palm towards the rest of the room. He figured that if Sweets didn't nail them for the scene they created the day before, he would certainly recommend to dissolve the partnership once he got wind of whatever lecture Brennan was going to force upon his counterparts. He might as well face the music and let her speak her piece…

Inhaling sharply at Booth's acquiescence, Brennan turned back to Mickey. "Agent Mitchell," she squared her shoulders, "I mean no disrespect. And I am certain that you were asked to speak at this conference as a direct result of your many successes and as a compliment to your obvious capabilities in leadership." She fisted and unrolled her hands nervously at her sides, reminding herself that she was an outsider in this forum. "But I fear that by promoting the notions of scientifically unsubstantiated _feelings_, such as inner voices and gut instincts, you may be encouraging the omittance of very real, very obtainable, _very_ _tangible_ aspects of success."

"Please," Mickey smiled warmly, having been warned by Sam Cullen of Brennan's cool demeanor and black-and-white sensibility. "Would you step up front? It would be much easier for everyone to hear, and see." He watched as the scientist deferred to her partner, silently asking his opinion.

Booth tilted his head, looking up at Brennan, and shrugged one shoulder. "That's up to _you_, Bones," he muttered. "_You're_ the one with somethin' to say…"

Noting his longtime friend's reluctance, and suspecting that Booth was more embarrassed than angry, Mickey turned his attention to the seated man. "_Actually_," he stepped a bit further down the aisle. "Booth, I'll ask you to join your partner up front as well." When alarmed eyes turned his way, Mickey simply pinned Booth with a firm expression. "As I'm standing here thinking about the whole lesson behind today's session, I can't imagine a better example of partnership compromise and overcoming differences than you and Dr. Brennan."

Swallowing a growl, Booth's dark eyes swiveled from Mickey to Brennan, where they settled before he pushed himself up. Leaning close, he kept his voice quiet. "All is wanted to do was come to this damn convention to appease the suits… But no, we can't do that, _can we_?" He stepped back, extending his hand in invitation for her to step past him and he would follow. When she hesitated, quite obviously picking up on both his unhappiness and his reluctance, he sighed. "C'mon," he reached around her and placed his hand on the center of her back, gently pushing her past him. "Let's get this done."

Leading the way up the center aisle, glancing peripherally at the array of shocked and amused expressions looking back at her, Brennan felt her stomach flutter with anxiety and she slowed her steps. When they passed Mickey, who nodded at them cordially, she felt the sudden loss of Booth's hand from where it belonged. She turned to find him leaning close to his friend as he nodded, listening to whatever instruction Mickey was providing. She didn't miss the tight tick in his jaw or the tense posture in his shoulders. Swallowing hard, the scientist knew that she would have to work hard to get back into his good graces, and she suddenly regretted ever opening her mouth, afraid he might completely pull away from her. Her heart pounded as she waited for him to join her again, and while, in hindsight she would see that the wait was mere seconds, it felt like hours as she stood, the center of attention.

Suddenly, familiar brown eyes glanced at her from beneath a heavy brow, but they were much warmer, softer than they had been when he stood to join her. With a sharp, stiff nod, he pulled back from Mickey and closed the distance between them once again.

"Ready?" He motioned towards the stage again.

Suddenly speechless and confused, Brennan looked at his eased expression. "What did he say?"

"Don't worry about it," he palmed her shoulders and turned her around, urging her forward. "Let's just do this."

Stumbling over her own two feet for a step or two, Brennan regained her balance and held her head high as they passed the sea of agents waiting patiently. She knew her partner was still unhappy with turn of events, even though the anger in his gaze had somewhat diminished after speaking with Mickey. She felt his presence close behind, his familiar swagger tight, like when he was preparing to interrogate a suspect about whom he had one of his famous gut-feelings... She couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips when she thought about his many postures and how she could often determine what kind of mood he was in just by watching him cross the expanse of the lab whenever he came looking for her. _Perhaps I have improved upon my people reading abilities over the years, after all_, she thought proudly. Then she reminded herself that Booth was really the only person on whom her limited skills ever seemed to be accurate. As she mounted the two stairs that would take them up on the raised platform, she felt the pressure of his hand become firmer, as if he were steadying and protecting her against some phantom that might trip her upon her ascent.

As the partners turned to face the audience of Booth's counterparts, Mickey moved up the aisle, drawing closer to the stage. "Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth," he smiled kindly. "I hope you forgive me for breaking the planned format of this lecture. I am intrigued by Dr. Brennan's objections and would like to hear more of her views, as a contracted employee and also as a well-respected lecturer." Turning to glance around the room, he addressed the attendees. "For any of you who don't already know, you are looking at the most successful partnership in FBI history between an Agent and a Contractor. Special Agent Booth is the AIC of Major Crimes in DC and his partner, Dr. Brennan, is one of the leading forensic anthropologists in the country…"

"In the _world_," Brennan interrupted, more out of habit than anything else.

Spinning on his heel to face the partners again, he grinned and bowed his head slightly. "I stand corrected. My apologies, Dr. Brennan."

Shaking her head, she brushed off the apology. "A common mistake…" She glanced at Booth from the corner of her eye and saw him shaking his head, and she knew she had, once again, made a social misstep in correcting the facilitator.

Mickey turned back to the other agents, stifling his humor at her no-nonsense contradiction. "Their success rate has caught the attention of the highest ranking officers within our organization and most recently, that of the President of the United States. Just last month, they, along with several members of their team, were awarded Medals of Valor in a special ceremony held at the White House, recognizing the risks each of them have taken while on the job." Sweeping his eyes across the room, he noted the impressed expressions on most people's faces. "I have stepped outside the box of a typical session format by asking them up front, not only to hear the views of a contracted member of our law enforcement family, but also, because I firmly believe we could all learn a little something from the people standing up before you…" Turning back to Booth and Brennan, he continued speaking to the group while casting a grin of approval at his former army-comrade and the woman who helped rocket him into the upper ranks of the FBI. "Their working relationship is the epitome of how overcoming differences can build a successful partnership."

Booth felt his face flush in embarrassment. He knew they were good at what they did, but he hated to have attention drawn to himself about their successes. In his mind, he was still trying to even out his imaginary cosmic balance sheet, and he preferred to just do his work and call it a day. A sideways glance at Brennan told him that while she was accustomed to standing before large groups in lecture halls, she was also feeling a little bit more exposed than she'd prefer since being singled out. Feeling bad for growling at her in frustration, he swallowed what was left of his anger, deciding to deal with it later, when they were alone, and he took a half step closer to her, until she raised her pale eyes to his. He could see her apology written all over her face, the wary cautious veil falling down across her eyes. The agent curled one side of his mouth ever so slightly and winked, hoping she would understand that they would continue _their_ conversation later, once they were no longer in the spotlight.

Brennan picked up on Booth's unspoken message, and while she knew her short-tempered agent still had plenty to say about the entire situation, she understood that he was standing at her side while facing the crowd as a result of her poorly timed outburst. Hearing her name, the scientist's attention was drawn back to Mickey as he directed his statement at her.

"Dr. Brennan, I understand that you have concerns about the topics I introduced in my opening." When he saw the contractor swallow visibly, he wanted to put her at ease. "If there is one thing my employees will tell you about my style of management, it's that I appreciate hearing opposing points of view. Now, I know that pretty much everyone in this room has, at one point or another in their careers, been subjected to workshops covering the same bases as I was about to cover. But I dare say that limited few have been graced with your opinions and knowledge. Would you mind sharing with me, and the group of course, your views on the topics?"

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Brennan nodded, glancing only once at Booth to ensure she had his support. "Of course, Agent Mitchell," she began. Moving her eyes across the room, she mentally placed herself in front of a classroom of advanced Anthropology students, helping to calm her nerves, even though the topics she was about to reference had nothing to do with her area of expertise. Addressing the audience, she stepped forward, refusing to allow rampant anxiety to intimidate her. "Agent Mitchell touched on topics such as instinct, inner-voices and gut-feelings. These notions, from a scientific standpoint, are unsubstantiated and unprovable. People are not born with tiny voices that talk inside their heads or in their intestines. In my opinion, it is both irresponsible and _dangerous_ to attempt to teach such unattainable emotions." Hearing a murmur flow across the sea of agents, she reached back to arguments she'd had with Booth other the years about this very same idea.

Extending her hand towards her partner, the anthropologist continued. "Now, Booth and I have drastically opposing views on this idea, and I suspect that, like he, many of _you _subscribe to the belief that your position within the professional field of law enforcement somehow endows you with super powers, allowing you to metaphorically read people's' minds and predict their intentions or actions." Seeing a collection of positive nods and false bravado wash over her audience, she knew she was right. "What I posit is, that through experience, trial and error, we, as humans, develop an ability to read subtle signals when interviewing persons of interest or interrogating suspects. Kinesiology is a field of scientific study of human and, in some instances, nonhuman bodily movements, reactions, performance, and functions through the application of various fields of hard science. There is a certain, _narrow _application of kinesiology, that allows those with the experience of reading these motions to apply it to criminal investigations and interrogations." Moving just her eyes across the faces of her audience members, she saw speculation and defiance staring back at her from many. "Now, I am not saying that these skills cannot be developed and improved upon over time. I _do _insist, however, that they cannot be taught in a 60-minute conference session... And," she turned her eyes to Mickey, "again, no offense intended, Agent Mitchell, but they cannot be taught by someone without the proper Kinesiological training and level of educational experience."

"_Jesus_, Bones," Booth grumbled at her under his breath as he dropped his chin to his chest and flared a sideways glance at her in disbelief.

Realizing her point was only serving to further anger her partner as well as likely insult the audience, Brennan knew she had to back up her points. Looking at Booth, she swallowed nervously and turned back to the crowd.

"When I speak, I do so with candor. My intentions are not to insult or belittle anyone's skillset." She licked her lips and stepped forward slightly. "Agent Booth has been trying for years to help me better understand what is and is not acceptable verbiage to use in various situations." Raising her chin in false confidence, she confessed. "I believe this," she motioned to the mini-stage, "will become one of my hard-earned lessons. But I stand by my convictions." She moved her eyes to Mickey and sensed that he was eager for her to continue.

"When Agent Booth and I first started working together, he often pointedly stressed that _crimes are solved by cops, not scientists_… And yet...he was at my lab, seeking the assistance of my team…" She turned cool eyes back to her partner, wanting to make a point. "Seeking _my _expertise." When his dark gaze met hers from below a heavy brow, she knew she had his attention. Turning back to the audience, she continued.

"I am not saying there is no such thing as a so-called _gut instinct_; I've seen Booth's in action far too often to deny its existence. I _am _saying it cannot be taught. It is not a lesson or ability that can be documented about in the textbooks, and it isn't a skill to be taken lightly. After working only a few cases in partnership with the FBI, I arrived at the determination that Booth has a subconscious ability...a _knack_, for lack of a better word, for reading body language; he picks up on stress in the voice and other subtle indicators… He utilizes this skill when interrogating suspects and he then applies his observations to the hard evidence uncovered throughout the course of our investigation." She felt a wave of warmth spread through her body as she spoke of Booth's excellent practices. "Booth is one of the best because he uses his abilities _coupled with_ the tangible evidence uncovered by our team of experts. To depend on instinct alone would be irresponsible and pointless… _And_, I suspect, would lead to a greater percentage of unsolved or unexplained cases than otherwise possible." Refocusing on Mickey, Brennan felt confident that she had explained her point clearly and, _hopefully_, without adding insult.

Booth silently studied the audience, noting that most attendees appeared to accept what Brennan was saying. He was pleasantly surprised that she so eloquently vocalized her disdain for the primary source of suspicion upon which most of his interrogations were initiated. Barely raising an eyebrow, he moved his focus back to his partner, shifting only his eyes. The agent could tell, simply by her straight, rigid posture combined with her arms hanging loose at her sides, that she was experiencing her typical warring emotions of confidence and anxiety. Turning to face her fully, Booth tilted his head to the right and stifled a proud smile. His girl had stood her ground in front of a room full of arrogant, hard-headed agents and successfully defended her stance against the very foundation he believed in from an investigator's point of view…and she did it with such grace that he could almost believe in her scientific standpoint.

In a single thought, he was immensely proud of her. _Ok_, he mused silently, _two thoughts…_ he was immensely proud of her _and_ incredibly in love with her… Even if she did tend to piss him off on a regular basis, as if it was her sole purpose in life...

"Thank you, very much, Dr. Brennan." Mickey's strong voice carried across the room, stirring Booth from his daydream and bringing him back to reality. "I certainly appreciate your views and understand why you feel compelled to share them. And, I will take your points under advisement when planning future sessions." He smiled, seeing tension instantly release from her shoulders. Redirecting his attention, he smirked at Booth, watching him watch Brennan. "Agent Booth," he barely swallowed the chuckle at Booth's alarmed expression at being called upon. "Would you care to add anything, or comment on your partner's expressed opinions?"

Knowing he was not going to get out of saying something, especially since Mickey made a point of calling him up front, he straightened his stance and jerked his head to the side quickly to crack his neck. "Well," he shrugged once and shoved his hands into his pockets. "There's really nothing to say…"

"_Really_?" A skeptical voice from the back of the room spoke up. "You have _no_ opinion of your partner's complete dismissal of the singular trait that you so strongly depend on? The _gut-feelings_ that you're so well known for, Booth?" The man stood. "Isn't it difficult for you to maintain a partnership with someone who so obviously discounts and demeans your own experiences simply because she, herself, doesn't possess the ability to read people?"

Eyeing his former pseudo-partner, Marcus Gray, Booth clenched his teeth at the public threat attempting to pit him against his partner. Refusing to feed into what he was certain was a poorly thought out scheme of causing friction, but for what specific reason he wasn't sure, Booth took a cleansing breath.

"Look, Bones feels very strongly about hard evidence and science… And I get that… And more importantly, I respect it. She doesn't, as you say, discount me _or _my tactics." Grinning, he glanced at Brennan before continuing. "_Granted_, when we were first dancing 'round the idea of becoming official partners, her harsh dismantling of the very foundation in my investigative method was, to put it mildly, a bit unnerving, but we worked it out. And _now_," he arched an eyebrow, pinning Marcus with a dark, cold stare, "now I challenge _you," _he glanced around at a few of the still-doubters who listened intently. "I challenge _any _of you, to find fault with our methods or routines… We've proven time and again that we can solve even the grisliest of crimes, even though we approach the situation from two vastly different angles… In the end, _and most importantly,_" he settled his roving eyes on Marcus again, "we arrive at the same conclusion, most often together, and as a direct result of our combined efforts and those of our team."

The attendees in the room felt the tension rise ten-fold when Booth addressed the agent at the back of the room. People fidgeted in their seats, their eyes darting around, uncertain on whom to focus. After several uncomfortable moments, a woman in the middle of the room, a young agent, scooted forward in her chair, hesitatingly raising one hand, appearing nervous to draw attention, but clearly wanting to be heard. When Booth caught the movement from the corner of his eye, he turned slightly, to face the woman.

"Yes?" He moved to stand closer to Brennan.

"Excuse me," the stranger stood. "I am just wondering, seeing at how different the two of you are, how did you come to the decision to partner permanently, rather than to simply continue collaborating on an occasional basis, as Agent and Consultant?" She looked at Booth while asking the question, but quickly shifted her gaze to the anthropologist. "I mean, what happened that convinced you to take that step, and did you ever expect to be so successful?"

"Well, I don't think either of us really knew what to expect…. I think I can freely speak for both of us that we never imagined we'd reach the level of success we've enjoyed." Booth answered first. He glanced at Brennan and saw her nod of agreement. "Before our partnership was officially recognized, we were working a pretty intense case, involving a pretty high-ranking poli-"

"I blackmailed him." Brennan interrupted shamelessly, her famous bluntness on display in all its glory.

"Bones!" He hissed, whipping his head in her direction as a collective gasp could be heard from several agents in the crowd.

"What?" She looked at his flared eyes and his incredulous expression. "It's true…" She raised one shoulder in an innocent shrug.

"No," he turned back to the audience, extending a hand. "No, that's not true…" Turning back, he felt a wave of tension wash over him once again. He growled in disapproval. "You can't just go around telling people you blackmailed me, Bones!"

"But why? It's true…" She searched his handsome features, ignoring the murmuring sounds that were now surrounding them. "You didn't want to take me out in the field… I told you that if you didn't…"

"Stop." He pinned her with yet, another a hard stare. "It's illegal to blackmail...especially a Federal Officer…" The agent felt the thin thread of his limited patience reach the verge of snapping. "_And_, you're speaking to a whole room of _Federal Agents_…"

Wrinkling her brow, she glanced quickly around before settling her eyes back on her partner. "You won't let them arrest me…" The scientist faced outward again, emanating an air of confidence as she once again addressed the room. "Booth didn't want to take me out with him once we discovered that there was a very powerful politician involved in a murder…"

"She _didn't_ blackmail me," he interrupted her this time, needing to get his point across. "She _negotiated_ with me...with the FBI…"

"Let me finish, Booth… They'll understand…"

"No, they won't…" He was firm in his response.

"Is my blackmailing you any worse than you getting me drunk in order to fire me?" She didn't even lower her voice, so her question carried clear and strong across the conference room.

"Stop saying you blackmailed me." He put his hands on his hips, facing her fully and now completely ignoring the many eyes and ears that were witnessing their exchange. "And for your information, I didn't take you there to get you loaded…" He leaned forward ever so slightly. "We went to that bar so _I_ could get drunk enough to fire you…" His gaze softening involuntarily, he huffed. "I didn't _wanna_ fire you, Bones..."

"Well," she felt her stomach flip at the look in his eyes, and she, too, forgot they were on a stage. "For what it's worth, I have always regretted my decision to get into that cab…". She licked her lips. "But I've _never_ second guessed my attempt to blackmail you." When she saw his exasperated look at her choice of words, she smirked, raising one side of her mouth. "Ok… I've never second guessed my _negotiation techniques_."

"Thank you." He nodded and looked down at his feet, suddenly remembering that they were being watched. Turning his neck, he searched the sea of faces until he settled on Mickey's. "She didn't blackmail me… Hear that?" His handsome face broke out into a broad grin when snickers started to erupt around the room. He ignored an unknown agent to his left as he called out, "Let's hear more about getting drunk at the bar!"

For the next forty-five minutes, Booth and Brennan answered questions that were volleyed out from members of the conference. It seemed that most people were genuinely interested in learning how the unlikely pair grew to work together so well, most expressing intent to implement some similar techniques into their own partnerships, hoping to achieve even a fraction of their success. While Booth hated standing before an audience for any reason, he grew more comfortable as he and Brennan shared equal time taking the lead in responding to inquiries and comments. In the back of his mind, however, he held firm to his plans to have a serious discussion with his partner for, what he considered, her carelessness in contradicting Mickey's lecture and forcing them into the limelight. He was still pissed that he had to stand up in front of his peers, giving them a glimpse into his working relationship with Brennan… All he had wanted to do was attend the damn convention and then return to work the following week… He never planned to draw attention to himself and he certainly hadn't planned on leading up a session about overcoming differences. _Yep_, he thought to himself and he listened to Brennan answer a question about splitting the responsibilities on the inevitable pile of finalization paperwork that accompanies every case. _I'm gonna have a little chat with her as soon as we're done here…. If she thinks I've forgotten how pissed I felt when she first stood up back there, pulling everyone's attention to our row, she's sorely mistaken._

Feeling his alarm buzz silently in his pocket, Mickey glanced at his watch, surprised that the one-hour session seemed to have passed so quickly. Of course, he realized that the whole reason was because he was now sitting in the audience watching his former comrade rather than conducting the lecture himself. He pushed up from the chair and slowly made his way back towards the front of the room, allowing Booth the necessary time to argue _against_ Brennan's insistence that all contracted employees carry fire arms in the field, even if they are properly trained on handling weapons. It was obvious to Mickey that this was a conversation that Booth and Brennan had often, given how fluidly their respective opposing views flowed, and he silently promised himself to ask Booth about it when they were out to dinner… He suspected it would make entertaining conversation…

Catching movement from the corner of her eye, Brennan watched Mickey climb the two steps to the raised platform, and she instinctively knew that she would not have time to point out the faults in Booth's stubborn opposition to her desire to legally carry a gun. Stepping back slightly, she allowed her partner to monopolize the final moments of the session, as he lectured his point of view, seemingly to the approval of the mass majority of the audience.

Feeling the distance his partner was placing between them, Booth stopped abruptly and turned, eyeing Mickey instantly. "Oh, sorry…" He curled on side of his mouth up, flicked his eyes briefly to Brennan and back to his old friend. "I just feel really strongly about this subject…"

"No, no," Mickey moved to stand opposite the FBI's top agent, "don't apologize. I can tell this is a very important topic of discussion." He was hoping he was able to successfully hide his amusement at the whole scenario. "It's just that we're about out of time." Turning back to Brennan, he motioned her forward. "I want to thank you both for your compliance in my request to speak to the group. I know I sprang it on you unexpectedly," he looked back at Booth, "but your indulgence is really appreciated. I think it's safe to say that, considering what I had planned to discuss, everyone certainly benefited _more_ by having you both as part of this first break-out session. I could never have described or lectured on the topic at hand as concisely as you demonstrated. Thank you," he looked back at Brennan and extended an open palm. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan, for your candor and willingness to play along." When he saw the question in her eyes at his choice of words, he quickly adjusted. "Meaning, I appreciate your rapid adaptation to the situation, and your honesty in addressing the questions put forth by our colleagues."

She smiled, understanding what he meant. "You're welcome. And again, I never intended to undermine your speech…"

Waving off her apology, he patted the back of her thin hand as his much wider palm engulfed it in a hearty shake. "No apologies necessary." He turned back to Booth, sensing that his friend was still feeling more than a little aggravated at being in front of fifty-odd people. "And I thank you, too, Agent Booth. Your insights were invaluable today. As the FBI explores the ever-growing possibilities of extending partnerships beyond those of agent to agent, I am sure your confidence was able to put many people at ease as several folks here may be faced with the notion of partnering with someone outside of their field." The men shook hands cordially and Mickey turned back to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this will conclude today's lecture. I thank you all, as well, for your participation in this kick-off session; without your poignant questions, we may not have had such a fruitful discussion." He smiled at several people started closing folders, tucking sheets of paper inside, undoubtedly containing notes that were taken. "You're free for the rest of the morning and for lunch. Please plan to reconvene in the main ballroom at 2:00 this afternoon for our afternoon team-building event." He held up his hand and smiled. "Enjoy a leisurely lunch and I look forward to seeing you all this afternoon."

Before Mickey could turn around, Booth was already stalking off stage, his shoulders clearly still tense. When he turned and looked at Brennan, he was met with a look of apology.

"It seems Booth is upset with me." Brennan watched her partner walk away, the thick, ropy muscles in his neck clearly visible. Looking back at Mickey, she extended her hand again. "Thank you for the opportunity to speak. I do hope that I didn't interfere too badly."

"No, not at all. I meant what I said… The insight you and Booth offered, as first hand experience, was far better content than my planned spiel. I just hope that Booth forgives me for pushing him up here as well… I know how he hates public speaking."

Glancing at the double doors in the back of the hall, she was thankful to see that Booth was at least waiting for her. Her eyes lingered on his tight frame as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw ticking. Refocusing on Mickey, she failed to give him much reassurance, choosing instead to stick with a typically blunt response. "Well, he is certainly angry with me for speaking up… but I think he might be angrier with you for making him stand up here with me. I guess it's a good thing the two of you have a history of friendship… I imagine he will eventually forgive you because he likes you…" She turned towards the stairs with an apologetic shrug of one shoulder.

Mickey watched as Brennan made her way in Booth's direction carefully. She paused when she was about twenty feet from where he stood and tilted her head to the right, as if in silent question. When Booth pushed off the wall and led the way from the room, holding the door open for his outspoken partner to follow, the older man chuckled to himself. _Bet he forgives her in no time_, he thought. _To say Seeley Booth is smitten with that scientist would be the understatement of the century._

B/B/B/B

"Booth," she trotted to catch up with him as he walked swiftly towards the elevators. "Can I just exp-"

"No," he spun on his heel, focusing dark, angry eyes on her. "No, Bones, you may not explain anything." Without another word, he turned and finished closing the distance to the elevators. Punching the button, he quickly grew impatient when the doors didn't open immediately. Leaving his partner standing in front of the shiny, stainless steel doors, he detoured through the stairwell doors, deciding to burn off his aggravated energy by trotting up nine flights of stairs.

By the time he was sliding his keycard into his door, Brennan was already in her room, having ridden up on the elevator that arrived only seconds after Booth stormed into the stairwell. Sitting on the edge of her bed trying to swallow her anxiety, she rolled her lips between her teeth when she heard him enter. She allowed him a few uninterrupted moments before sheepishly approaching the conjoined door. Popping her head through, she saw him standing out on his balcony, the stress in his shoulders still obvious as he leaned on his railing. Swallowing her nervousness, she padded quietly through his room and came to stand beside him, mirroring his stance.

"Booth…"

He held his hand out, still trying to rein in his temper. "Bones," he clenched his jaw. He knew, deep inside, that she only did what came naturally, and that he shouldn't be mad… But _knowing it_ and being able to _act upon it_ were two very different things. "Why couldn't you just," he shrugged. "You know what? I don't wanna talk about it right now… I just want to stand here and look at the beach…" He refused to look at her, knowing that if he did, he would most likely instantly forgive her once he let himself fall into her soul-swallowing eyes. "If you wanna stand out here with me, fine. If not," he shrugged again and folded his hands, "you're welcome to leave…"

Brennan felt a lump grow in the pit of her stomach, and she knew that she was coming dangerously close to ruining everything that they'd been working towards. Mulling over her options, weighing in on the pros and cons of staying or leaving, she let her posture slump with a sigh, silently reprimanding herself for her unfiltered interruption of their first session. Uncertain of what she should do, and unable to really read her partner's wishes, she did what came naturally and let her head fall to the side, where it landed with a whisper against the broad shoulder on which she had come to depend for more than just its physical strength.

**Postscript A/N**

**These two... If they didn't have each other I think they'd both be lost...! And their lives MUCH duller! **

**Please leave me a review! That is the only form of compensation we amateur writers get! **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, and all the best for 2016!**

**~jazzy**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N Hello and welcome back! Hope everyone is doing well and surviving 2016 splendidly! I know in many parts of the world, people are dealing with harsh weather right now, and I hope you are all well and keeping safe! **

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing… Just my crazy imagination and this storyline! **

The partners remained as they were, standing side by side on the balcony overlooking the beach, for several quiet moments. Brennan's head continued to rest on Booth's shoulder while they maintained their silence, each lost in private thoughts, revisiting the scene that unfolded in their meeting. Growing restless at the lack of communication, Brennan raised her head and inhaled slowly. Ready to break their stalemate, her train of thought was shattered when Booth's cell shrilled loudly with an incoming call.

The agent watched his partner retreat back into his room without a word as he fished into his pocket to extract his phone.

"Booth," he grunted, not recognizing the phone number on display.

"It's Mickey."

Expecting to be ripped a new asshole, or, at the very least, be instructed to _never_ attend another of his sessions, Booth glanced up at the sky and braced himself. "Listen, Mickey," he noticed Brennan's stiffened posture when she paused for a split second upon hearing Mickey's name before she continued to slowly move through his room towards the connecting doors. Licking his lips, he prepared a defense for his partner, despite the fact that he didn't agree with what she did. "Bones didn't mean any harm-"

"Relax, Booth, that's not why I'm calling you." The senior officer cut off his friend's protective alpha nature. "Don't worry so much. I already told Temperance that I wasn't upset, and I meant it. If I had a problem with the interruption, I wouldn't have invited you two up front." Squaring his shoulders, even though Booth couldn't see him, Mickey wanted to ensure he had his pal's attention. "And I sure as _hell _hope you're not giving her a hard time, Seeley… I saw the way you walked away from her down there… _And_ I saw the hurt reflected in her eyes before you turned and waited by the door for her…"

Not sure of how to answer, Booth chose to say nothing at all, certain that his Army buddy would get the hint to move the conversation along. Sure enough, he didn't have to wait long.

"Ok, so anyway, Booth, the reason I'm calling is that Jeannie's here already."

"She is? I thought she wasn't coming until later this week."

"Yeah, originally that was the plan. But some of the ladies at the school where she volunteers had to rearrange the schedule, and as a result her volunteer hours were canceled. She'll be here until Thursday, then she has to head back."

"I see. Well I guess you're happy about that, huh?" Booth knew that regardless of the fact that his friend had been married since before they served together in the war, Mickey was still dopey-in-love with Jean, and it was very rare that the couple spent time apart.

"Damn straight, I am!" Mickey winked at his wife as she sat across the table from him in the small lobby cafe. "Wouldn't you be happy if you thought you weren't gonna see Temperance for a few days, only to have her turn up unexpectedly?" He baited his friend, knowingly.

"Well," Booth cleared his throat. "That's a little different, man… Bones and I… We're just partners…"

"Don't try to bullshit me, Booth. I know you too well." He chuckled under his breath but continued quickly, so he wasn't interrupted again. "But anyway, we wanted to know if you and Tempe would be up for dinner tonight or tomorrow night?"

"Oh, um," Booth looked back at his room and saw that it was empty, and he knew she had moved through to her own room. "Hang on," he walked to the connecting doors, poking his head through. Not seeing her immediately, he turned his attention to the bathroom and saw the door closed. "Um, can I call you back? I'll check with Bones, but she's, ahh…Not available right now."

"Sure, no problem. Let us know, either evening works for us. We'll gauge our time by the schedule the two of you have planned."

"Yeah, alright. I'll talk to you in a bit." Booth walked over to the small table near her sliding doors and flipped through the magazine that was sitting in the center. Disconnecting the call, he pulled out a chair and sat, turning his attention to the catalog of scientific equipment. He wrinkled his brow at the neatly written 'wish list' clipped to the inside cover. His detail-oriented scientist had a list of equipment, items which he'd never heard of and would certainly have no clue as to their purposes. She had the paper broken into columns containing the machine name, catalog page number, the wholesale price, the expected wait time for delivery, and which squinty department would house the equipment once it was acquired. He noted that most items would be housed in 'Bone Storage' (aka 'Limbo' as he preferred to refer to the magnificent room of bony gloom), while other items would be located in Hodgins' lair, or in the Ookey Room for use by her rotating Rolodex of Squinterns. Just as he started to turn to a page in curiosity of what the labeled machine would look like, he heard his partner exit her bathroom. Closing the book, he looked up and met her wide, pale eyes.

"Hey," he addressed her quietly with a small, wary smile.

"Hello." She approached slowly, taking deliberate steps as she mentally commanded her body to remain calm, no matter what her partner might tell her about his phone call with Mickey.

"That," he picked up his phone again, "was Mickey."

"Yes… I heard…"

"Yeah," he knew she was nervous, but at the same time, he felt a wave of anxiety wash over himself, thinking back to what Mickey said about Brennan's hurt expression when he had stalked off stage. "He was, um, calling about dinner. His wife is in town already… Something about her volunteer schedule changing. So he was thinking that dinner either tonight or tomorrow might be good…"

Assuming that her earlier behavior had served to garnish her _uninvited_, she failed at hiding her disappointment. "Oh. Well," she looked down at the empty chair nervously. "Whichever evening you go, I will have plenty of work to keep myself occupied." Hastily, she picked up the catalog that her partner had been looking at. "I need to finish prioritizing the list of lab equipment that I am going to propose to the board next month…"

"Wait, what?" His brow wrinkled and he stood, pulling the catalog from her hands.

"Well, I have to determine which machines or upgrades would hold priority over the others; it is highly unlikely that the board is going to approve _all_ of these items, so…"

"No," he blinked, taking a moment to catch up with her sentence. "That's not… What do you mean when _I_ go to dinner, _you'll_ have plenty to keep occupied…"

"I assume that I am no longer welcome at dinner with your friends…"

"Bones," he stepped away from his chair and closed in on her. "Don't be silly. Of course you're still welcome. Mickey and his wife want you there... and I _certainly_ want you there…" He reached for her fingers, taking them gingerly. "Why would you ever think otherwise?"

Refusing to meet his eyes, Brennan chose, instead, to focus her gaze on the tabletop. "After interrupting his lecture and embarrassing you…"

"Stop." He tugged at her hand. "Bones, you're my partner." He tilted his head, waiting for her to look at him and when she didn't, he pulled her even closer. "You're…" He swallowed thickly. "You're more than that…" Knuckling her chin, he finally forced her to look up at him. "I wouldn't go to dinner without you…"

Stamping down anxious emotion, she searched and found only honesty looking down at her through his dark, bottomless eyes. "Really?" She hated experiencing this metaphorical roller coaster of emotions that she was riding, but most of all, she hated the vulnerability she heard in her own voice.

The agent couldn't stop his gaze from dropping to her mouth before looking back up into her questioning blues. Raising one side of his lips, he assured her as he felt the anger and aggravation he'd been holding onto since their earlier public display dissipate. "Do you really think I wouldn't want you there?"

Releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding, she blinked back tears that had no permission to make themselves known. The stubborn scientist didn't want her partner to see her feelings, so she turned away quickly, reaching for her notebook and feigning the need to carefully review their schedule. "Well," she licked her lips, keeping her back to Booth. "From a strictly logistical view of our schedule, it would make more sense to participate in a dinner engagement tonight, rather not than tomorrow…"

Closing the distance between them, Booth craned his neck to read over her shoulder. "Yeah," he realized that the following morning was basically free for them; they had elected to use Tuesday morning as one of their personal workshop sessions, during which they could use one of the temporary government-installed computer labs to securely access their work emails and files, answer questions on open cases and otherwise deal with any outstanding workload issues while away from the office. They didn't have anything scheduled, as far as a group meeting, until after lunch. "That's true, it would make more sense, in case we're out late or have a few too many drinks…" Turning back to the small table, he grabbed his phone. "Lemme call Mickey back."

As he dialed his friend's number, he felt the unmistakable sensation of her wide, inquisitive eyes watching him without comment. When he turned around, he noted the anxious expression on her face and he knew she was still concerned about 'them', about their partnership, based on what had happened downstairs. Before Mickey had a chance to answer, Booth reached out and touched Brennan's bicep. "As soon as I'm done here," indicating to the phone, "we can talk, Bones."

Before she could answer, she watched and listened as his attention was diverted back to the phone in response to Mickey's greeting.

B/B/B/B

Booth joined Brennan on her balcony after speaking with Mickey and ironing out the details of where they'd meet later that evening. "So," he sat down in the chair opposite her's. "There's a nice Italian place about fifteen minutes from here. I made sure that they have a good vegetarian menu before I agreed." He glanced at her, and although she was looking out through the slats of her balcony railing, he knew she was listening. "We'll meet them there; reservations are for 7:30." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I figured we'd just have the hotel call a cab for us..."

She nodded, finally glancing at him. "That sounds fine." She turned back towards the beach, uncertain of how to begin their very necessary discussion, or if Booth would start. After several moments of silence, she spoke up.

"I get the impression that you want me to apologize, Booth… But," she turned to look at his profile, noting that he was focused on his own folded hands. "I don't feel I did anything that warrants an apology." She watched as he visibly swallowed and flared his nostrils while inhaling deeply. "Booth," she wanted him to acknowledge her statement, to talk to her, and explain if _and why_ he thought she was mistaken.

"I know, Bones, that you don't think you did anything wrong… I know you… And I know that you only did what you felt was necessary and right." He finally turned to look at her but continued leaning on his knees. "But, that wasn't an appropriate forum to climb up onto your soapbox, Bones."

"I was not on a soapbox, Booth," she argued.

"Not _literally_," he assumed she didn't understand.

"I know _exactly _what you mean. I am familiar with the colloquialism of a _soapbox_. But that's not what I was doing. I truly believe that misleading information and training, no matter the good intent, can be detrimental to a person's career, whether delivered in the classroom or in a seminar." When she saw the defenses go up behind his eyes at her criticism, she plowed on. "I made it perfectly clear down there that I was not discounting the existence of the somewhat elusive, specific sense or ability that allows a person to predict the movements or actions of another. But I _do _think it's dangerous to start out with such lessons…" She studied his profile once again when he turned from her, choosing to look back out at the people far below. "Besides, Mickey told us before we even signed up for his sessions that he was looking forward to my input…"

"I don't think he meant he was looking forward to you taking over his platform, Bones." He looked at her with a slight air of disbelief. "Honestly, how would you feel if you prepared a squinty lecture and someone, who _thought_ he knew more than you, came in and simply took over?"

"No one would do that… I am the leading-"

"Yeah, I know you're the leading Forensic Anthropologist in the world, but y'know what? There is _always _someone out there who knows more… Maybe you're the leading expert in _your _particular aspect of bone studies, or in an overview or emphasis, but," he tried to think of an example that would demonstrate his point. "Ok, what about that guy, the Canadian… The foot guy…"

"Dr. Filmore?" She screwed her face up, not knowing what possible point he might be attempting to make. "What about him? He certainly doesn't know more about bones than I do, so your example is moot." She held her lips tight and tipped her nose upward, suddenly suspecting where her partner was directing the conversation.

"Bullshit, Bones. He caught something that you didn't during that investigation." When he saw her eyes go hard, he held up a finger. "Look, I don't remember specifics, but I'll be _damned _if I let you sit here and tell me that you weren't reluctant to give him the credit he deserved for spotting whatever the hell it was that helped break that case." He cocked his head sideways. "What was it that he discovered?" Booth actually remembered more than he led to believe, but he wanted his partner to get the point.

Swallowing slowly, Brennan rolled her lips between her teeth and looked away from her partner. Closing her eyes, she knew he was right about Dr. Filmore, _and_ about her poor behavior when working with the Canadian podiatrist. She turned her pale eyes back to find Booth watching her carefully. Reluctantly, she reminded her partner, speaking so rapidly that her words ran together, as if she thought the faster she said it, the faster they could move past the memory. "He's the one who suggested that the victim's wounds were most likely caused by power tools… Which directly led to Angela's recreation and ultimately pinpointed us to the lawn mower." She was quick to continue her discount of his overall work, however. "Forensic Podiatry is not a real _thing…_ it isn't a recognized field of scientific study…"

He hated to see his partner so defensive, and he knew he was largely responsible for her current mental state, but he needed to make her see his point of view as well. Softening his gaze, he lowered his voice as he leaned closer. "I'm sure there was a time when some doctor, somewhere, prob'ly a coroner or somethin', said the very same thing, fighting against anthropology being coupled with forensic investigations, resulting in the field of study now _widely_ recognized as 'Forensic Anthropology', Bones…" He turned to face her fully, reaching across the small patio table for her hand, so she'd look at him. "If there is one thing I've learned from you, in all these years of working together, it's that science is not static… There are always new inventions...new equipment and materials...new ways of reading old information… Science is _constantly _evolving, and we, as people need to evolve as well, if we're gunna survive…"

Feeling slightly mulish, and still unwilling to completely acquiesce to his point, Brennan simply looked down at their hands where he joined them. "If I remember correctly, I always said that science is _my constant_… I believe _you're_ the one who brought evolution into the equation, Booth."

"Well," he leaned fully onto the table, tugging her hand until she finally raised her eyes again. "You never exactly corrected me about it…"

"I've _always _corrected _and argued_ against your inane notions of indigestion-driven, gastritis-induced _gut feelings_." She met his eyes unwaveringly, successfully hiding her uncertainty of whether she was winning or losing this debate...

Swallowing a chuckle, he stood and closed the distance between them a little more, tugging her up to her feet. "Bones, you're just being stubborn…"

"_Me_?!" She looked aghast at the accusation. "What about _you_?" She pulled a hand free and pressed a pointy finger into his chest. "_You're_ the one who freaked out about standing up in front of the audience this morning!"

"Yep, I sure did. I wasn't the least bit happy… I'm _still _not thrilled." He admitted his opinion. "Hell, Bones," he caught her free hand so he was holding firmly to both, and forced her to stand still, directly in front of him. "I was down right _pissed_. I just wanted to sit in that fuckin' back row and listen, make my presence known so they couldn't say we ditched the meeting, and then _leave_. I _told_ you that." When she started to shift, his thumbs swept absently over the soft skin of her hands, stilling her instantly. "But then you had to show everyone how goddamn smart you are… You had to go and squintify our cop-instincts and gut feelings…" Closing the near-non-existent gap between them, his eyes darted across her pale features. Booth almost hated to admit, even to himself, but he'd been incredibly turned on watching her speak in front of the room full of his colleagues. She stood proud and straight, her constitution strong. She never visibly wavered in her beliefs, and was not the least bit intimidated by the fact that she was speaking to a room full of people who had no idea what kind of genius she truly was. "And you made me incredibly proud to be your partner, even while I was preoccupied with being pissed off…"

Surprised at his confession, she raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yep," one corner of his lips curled, "really." He shuffled his feet until they bumped against her toes and, by tugging just on her hands, he pulled her to him. "Proud… humbled… _infatuated_..."

Brennan found herself torn between looking him in the eyes and watching his lips as he formed the words. When she inhaled, his cologne filled her senses, intoxicating her on the simple scent that was Booth. Barely able to breathe, let alone think coherently, her pale eyes darted up to meet his molten chocolates when she realized just how close he was. "Wha- What are you doing?"

"I'm gunna kiss you," he breathed in response, loving the fact that he was able to render his genius somewhat immobile.

"But… I don't understand... wh-why you'd want to... to do that…" Brennan stuttered, now focusing on his masculine mouth, distracted by the knowledge of what it felt like descending upon hers. "You're angry…" She swayed involuntarily, her words no more than a whisper and her confusion fogged by an immediate, hungry desire, the kind of which she'd never experienced with any other man.

"M-hmm," he hummed as he closed the final distance. Knowing he'd admitted his feelings to her that morning on the patio, he accepted her lack of push-back as consent and pressed in. His mouth covered hers and he nipped playfully at her lower lip until she responded, which didn't take long. Once he sensed her willing participation, he released her left hand and moved his palm to her hip, keeping her in place as he asked permission by dragging his tongue along the thin line where her lips met.

When Brennan felt the silky, smooth surface to which she had quickly grown addicted the evening prior, she parted her lips, eagerly welcoming him into her warmth, where her tongue quickly met his, thirsty to taste him again. She moved her free hand up and cupped his broad shoulder, as much to keep him close as to stabilize her own ability to remain upright. When his other hand released her's and moved up to cradle her jaw, she let her newly liberated phalanges rest momentarily against his pec, where his shirt kept hidden, the scar he'd earned by saving her life. With that memory flitting through her mind, she fisted his shirt and pulled him even closer, crushing herself against him in effort to prove to her brain that he was there and that everything happening was, in fact, real.

Booth wanted more… He wanted to pull her inside and fall with her to the mattress, discarding her clothes along the way until he could finally see her… Until the creamy goodness that he was certain existed beneath her clothing was revealed to him at last…. His thumb hooked around the front of her chin, and gently, he pushed down, forcing her mouth to open wider, effectively forcing her to let him in deeper. When she did so without hesitation, he smiled into their kiss, knowing the inevitable was going to happen _very_ soon. Sadly, though, he knew it couldn't happen that afternoon… He reminded himself that when he was finally awarded the privilege of feeling her smooth, strong thighs wrapped around his hips, he needed more than just a couple of hours to fulfill one of the fantasies that had been haunting him for nearly eight years. Fighting back his alpha instincts to simply throw her over his shoulder and have his way, he swallowed the tiny mewl that escaped her throat and hummed in response, easing their kiss and pecking at her bee stung lips as he pulled back, looking down at her flushed cheeks.

As Brennan's eyes fluttered open, she was met with the dark, smoldering browns that had watched intently the previous evening, when, against his hotel room wall, he brought her to a shattering climax. She couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, and being honest with herself, she didn't want to stifle her emotions. There was no doubt in her mind that his quiet confession that morning in response to her own thinly veiled admission, had been honest and heartfelt; he was the one man she'd ever known who appeared to love her for who she was, idiosyncrasies and all. Her fingertips trailed along his collarbone until she grazed his masculine jawline and she didn't stop her eyes from following the path. When they reached his mouth, she traced the tiny concave curve of his lower lip, which had always intrigued her whenever he spoke. When he pressed a gentle kiss against the pad of her forefinger, she dragged her crystalline eyes up and met his gaze, smiling in response and ignoring the metaphorical eruption of butterflies fluttering around her body.

Booth's thumb swept across her zygomatic bone and he tilted his head to the side. "Bones," he said quietly, his voice thick and husky. "Just 'cause I'm angry, don't ever think that I don't wanna do that…" One side of his mouth curled up and his eyes twinkled as he crowded against her. "I can't imagine a time, _ever_, when I wouldn't want to kiss you…" He flexed his fingers against her hip and chuckled. "Especially now that I know you'll kiss me back and not just kick my ass…"

"But, Booth-"

Brennan's question was cut off by a loud rapping at the door. Booth's eyes swiveled from their focus and looked through the glass sliding doors at the offensive intrusion.

"Ooh…" Brennan's voice squeaked. "I forgot...While you were talking to Mickey, I called down and ordered lunch to be delivered…"

Booth stepped back and adjusted his pants, attempting to regain his composure and tamp down the effect she had on him. The task was completed for him, however, as another loud rap echoed through the room, followed by a muffled '_Room service!_'

**Postscript A/N **

**You know I couldn't let them go any further yet! It's toooo soon! **

**Hahahahaah *evil JazzyMuse laugh* **

**Poor B&amp;B, though, something always interrupts them, you know?! **

**I want to thank everyone who has left reviews and comments, I really appreciate it. I've had a LOT of comments about my unfinished piece, **_**Death, Plus One**_**, and whether or not I plan to finish it. I cannot tell you for sure if I will or not. I really wanted to, I had great intentions with that little ditty, but when my old computer crashed, I lost the entire outline, all my research notes and the whole rough draft. I lost the momentum on that fic, but I haven't lost ALL hope… I do hope to get back back to it at some point, but having to reinvent the wheel angers me because I have to redo all my research…. I know it's my own fault for not having a backup, and I learned my lesson; I make sure to save my work regularly to a thumb drive… But I appreciate your encouragement and comments, but I wanted to let you all know where I stand on that matter currently. I hope that, in the meantime, you enjoy these other fics I post. **

**Please watch for the upcoming Valentine's Day Bones FanFic entries soon! Bonesology is graciously hosting a V-Day gift exchange. If you are a writer, please toss your name into the hat and participate by sharing your talents! If you're a reader, please read *and review* all the fics as they start to post and support the writers who are donating their time and energy to provide entertainment for all of us! The only revenue any of us writers get is in the form of feedback and reviews, it is what keeps us going, so please take a moment to share your thoughts, as I, and others like me, share ours. **

**peace and love, my friends**

**~jazzy**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N Thank you all for your patience in waiting for this chapter! JazzyMuse misbehaved a little and went off-script, changing the original plan for this chapter, resulting in what you're about to read. I hope you enjoy her ornery meanderings. **

**I am sure you're as happy as I am that Fox agreed to sign the cast and crew on for a 12-episode 12th Season, so things can be wrapped up! Let's just hope that the showrunners give us some resolution to storylines that have been ignored or cast to the wayside. And WHAT THE HECK IS THE DEAL WITH 447?**

**It's sad that they've set a definitive ending to our favorite show, but from another POV, it's best to let it go out strong, with the leads in place, rather than letting it dwindle bit by bit, the way that X-Files did in their day. We are lucky that we've had the show for as long as it's lasted. **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Bones! But this idea is all mine!**

Booth and Brennan conversed casually over lunch, once again falling into the comfort of familiarity and easy banter. At one point during the conversation, a quiet lull settled over them and they simultaneously turned towards the open slider leading out to the balcony. The sounds of happy squeals from children playing combined the raucous cheer of a beachy sports game floated on the breeze, along with the constant motion of crashing waves filling the background, and the partners simply listened, smiling at what they heard.

Growing serious in his demeanor as he thought back over their morning, Booth moved his attention from the open door and looked at Brennan, noting the faraway look in her eyes as she stared sightlessly outside. He took a moment to just observe her; the way her sun-kissed skin glowed...the way her eyes seemed even bluer in that moment than they had yesterday, or even earlier that day...the messy bun holding her hair back from her face... Reaching across the tiny table, he covered her hand.

"Bones," his voice was soft, husky. "I'm sorry I got so upset."

His quiet statement pulled Brennan from her silent contemplation, and her eyes swiveled to her partner. Still uncertain of exactly how she felt about their morning, she was at a loss of how to respond. She licked her lips and rolled them between her teeth as she looked at him, and she simply nodded.

Knowing he had been wrong to've reacted so poorly, he tried to find the words to tell her. He dropped his gaze to where he now covered her hand, and he studied the drastic difference between his own tanned skin and her much paler pigment. Swiping his thumb across the back of her fingers, he spoke softly.

"I have a short temper… I'm _constantly _aware of it, always trying to rein it in and tamp it down." He wanted to chance a glance at her, but was afraid of what he'd see looking back at him, so he maintained his focus on their hands, tracing the delicate curve of her fingers with his eyes. "Sometimes I," he swallowed hard. "Sometimes I react before thinking...and then I get stuck inside my head, y'know? Like I can't seem to escape from that frame of mind…" He shook his head once. "You probably don't know what I'm talking about… It's hard to explain."

Brennan shifted her hand, so they were touching palm to palm. Instantly, his wide fingers wrapped around her wrist, encasing it completely; his touch tender but sure. Her own fingers, while long and wiry, couldn't even make contact around the wide, masculine build of his skeletal structure. She paused in her thoughts briefly as she considered the differences between their sizes. Regrouping, she brought her focus back to his lowered eyes, hoping that he would look up at her from beneath his heavy brow. "Actually," she responded, just as quietly as he'd been speaking, "I _do _know what you mean." When his dark pools raised and looked at her, she could see his was filled with doubt. "_I do_, Booth. I don't really understand the temper aspect, because I don't have that sort of disposition, I don't think... But I _do _understand the concept of focusing on one, solitary action or being influenced by a single outside stimuli, and being unable to stop thinking about it… I, too, dwell on things." She forced a tiny smile. "There have been plenty of occasions when I've been working and someone tried to interject an opinion or a different point of view, and because I was so deeply invested in my own theories and observations, that I dismissed their views without a second thought and _certainly _without apology." She shrugged one shoulder. "And as sure as I'm sitting here across from you, I know I've done that very thing to you, too…" Licking her lips, she dropped her gaze to their hands and then back up to his face. "I think it's safe to say that everyone becomes self-consumed at one time or another… I know it wasn't your intent to become so angry…"

Booth listened as his partner tried to pardon his behavior. In her own, awkward way, she was attempting to relate his actions to her own experiences... And he fell in love a little harder… But he didn't want her to make it easier for him, he didn't want to be excused from the behavior, he just wanted to make her understand that he knew his faults and he was working on them. He shook his head and tightened his hold on her, as if to stop her from pulling away. "You didn't deserve my attitude, Bones. And I shouldn't have reacted like that." He licked his lips nervously. "And, I'm just… I'm sorry. I'll try to do better." He tilted his head and looked back down, once again studying their fingers, now wrapped around each other's wrists. "I don't wanna turn out like…" He inhaled sharply, flaring his nostrils and decided against discussing his true concern for now… He didn't want to be _that guy_ who always blamed his childhood problems for his adulthood issues... "I just want to better control my anger," he looked up into her eyes. "And I never want to make you think that I don't value you. I want you to know that I love that we have opposing views, because that's what makes us tick…"

Brennan watched as an array of emotions washed across his face, veiling his dark eyes. "I know, Booth. I understand more than many people give me credit for." She flexed her fingers against his skin. "And I understand very well the metaphorical demons that you fight every day." She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "And Booth?" She waited until she had his full attention. "You're not like him…" She saw the surprise in his eyes before he schooled his emotions. "You're _nothing_ like your father. Even without ever having met him, I can say with absolute certainty, that you are _not like him_. He was a weak, selfish and uncaring individual." There was so much more she wanted to say about her feelings towards the man she had only heard stories about, but she didn't dare cross that line yet. She wanted to focus, instead, on the man sitting across from her. "You are a brave, unbelievably giving and patient man, Booth, even when you're frustrated… You actually tolerate a lot… _I know_, because I'm usually the one giving you the issues that need tolerance, or saying the wrong things..." They shared a quiet chuckle before she continued, once again on a serious tone. "You're also an amazing father. And Parker is so lucky to have you in his life." She felt the familiar flutter in her abdomen that was becoming so commonplace that she now just accepted it. "And I'm lucky, too, that you're my partner and my friend… And that you've become such an integral part of _my_ life."

Slightly stunned, he eyed his partner, amazed that no matter what, she always seemed to know exactly what he needed to hear, even when she doubted her own abilities. Unable to completely voice his appreciation, he simply stood up, pulling her from her seat as well, and tugged her into a warm embrace, one that was nothing at all like a guy-hug, but was, instead, a conveyance of gratitude and affection. Inhaling deeply, he took in a lungful of her scent, letting it bathe him in the comfort that only she was ever able to provide, even unknowingly. As he exhaled, he could feel the weight of their confrontation, the stress brought on by his own uptight nature, and the last threads of his frustrations disintegrate into the ether. The longer he held her against his chest, running his wide hands up and down her back, he could feel his inner insecurities, those emotions that he never let anyone else besides his partner see, were being replaced with the confidence that he knew hovered just beneath the surface. And the agent knew he could walk back outside that room and commune with his fellow agents and counterparts, and not give a damn about what anyone else thought of his unconventional partnership with his very own genius. He loved his partner; he loved her brain, her courage, her individuality, her soul and most of all, he loved her heart. And so, he held her, his embrace growing ever so slightly tighter and he nuzzled the few stray hairs that had fallen from her bun and tickled his nose.

And she let him, reveling in her own realization that she'd do or say anything necessary to render this type of reaction again. As she leaned into his all-encompassing hug, the scientist mused that perhaps this conference, which they'd been _forced _to attend, might actually produce some positive results between them as it emphasized the importance of communication.

B/B/B/B

The large conference room was buzzing with activity and various conversations when Booth and Brennan entered, making their way up to the unofficial Hoover table. They greeted other attendees cordially, recognizing a few faces from their morning session and nodding in response to greetings from previously unknown agents. One pair of partners, a particularly young looking duo, stopped the seasoned agent and scientist, offering appreciation in response to the valuable information they'd garnered from the morning session. Watching the rookies walk away, joining a table that was crowded with other much younger agents, Brennan muttered to Booth under her breath.

"I still don't really understand how anyone else benefited from hearing about _our _experiences, Booth. I highly doubt the likelihood of two other partners being present at this conference who share the same dynamics that we do…"

Chuckling at her grumble, he simply placed his hand on her back, continuing along their path of weaving in and out of tables until they reached their workmates. "Hard to say, Bones. People apply stuff they hear to their own day-to-day lives, and maybe something we shared struck a chord with one of them…"

Wrinkling her forehead, she glanced over her shoulder as they reached their chairs. "Booth, I don't recall either of us playing an instrument or singing anything that would have struck a chord…"

Smiling, he let her comment slide as he greeted Thompson and took his seat, motioning for her to do the same. "Too literal, Bones," he muttered from the side of his mouth while nodding across the table at Perotta.

Quickly changing her focus, she turned to answer a question Agent Shaw was asking, letting the conversation of musical intonation fall to the wayside.

"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen," Andrew Simmons spoke into the microphone at the podium, cutting through the milling conversations filling the room. "Thank you all for participating in a very successful and productive morning of break-out sessions." He glanced around, noticing a few stragglers entering the back of the room quietly. "Hopefully, everyone enjoyed and benefited from the information that was shared during your respective meetings. Now, before we begin this afternoon's team building exercise, I have an announcement about point accumulation for the competition." The energy in the room became noticeably charged as the attendees immediately started taunting one another. "Unbeknownst to you, this morning's facilitators and moderators were all keeping tabs on the level of participation and input you each contributed to your sessions." Grinning, he ignored the groans from those agents who had clearly _avoided _active participation in their sessions. "That means that each time one of you asked a question or provided feedback within the forum, your partnership team earned another point. And," his eyes swept the room side to side, "it also means that by tomorrow, we will _certainly _notice some considerable changes in the standings."

The audience murmured, apparently disturbed that the new standings wouldn't be announced until the following day. Andrew held one hand up. "Now, now, it wouldn't be very fair to update the standings mid-day, would it? Not when we have this afternoon's session still to account for?" He nodded at some of the assistants, who moved from the stage, carrying piles of papers with them. "So without further ado, let's go ahead and get started on today's activity, shall we?" The workers handed out papers to each table, ensuring one copy per person was delivered.

"Today will reveal just how much you each know about your partner." He watched as the audience started to review the hand-outs. "What you've just received is a questionnaire that you will each complete on your own, answering the questions about your partner and your partnership as a whole. There are questions pertaining to their personality, experience and your overall knowledge of who they are as a person." He glanced down at his notes. "We'll allow twenty minutes to answer the questions and then you will pair off respectively to discuss your answers. That should take about thirty minutes or so; we'll gauge the time based on the majority. Now," he took a sip of water, "we know there are many of you who won't be able to answer all the questions, given the newness of your partnership. That's ok; use this exercise as a tool to get to know your partner better, share stories as you debrief and open up a little. Remember, successful partners need to build a relationship. Your trust and faith in your partner might be the difference between life and death out in the field." Seeing several heads nod in agreement, he continued. "After you've had time to debrief with one another, we will come together as a group once again and I'm going to ask everyone to be prepared to share with the group, something that you learned new about your partner as a result of this exercise. If doesn't have to be anything too personal, and the intent is not to embarrass anyone. You might stand up and say 'today I learned what my partner's favorite color is.' You don't even need to reveal to the room _what _that color is… Just that it was something you never knew before. _Of course_… We'll be looking for you to learn something a little more _interesting _than just your partner's favorite color." He smiled as the crowd grew slightly restless and chatty.

Booth turned his attention to the sheet of paper he now held, ignoring the rest of Andrew's droning explanations and disclaimers. Reading down through the questions, he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leaned close to Brennan and whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

"We're gunna crush this, Bones."

Briefly eyeing him sideways, the scientist moved her attention to her own page. She, too, felt her mouth curling into a grin. "I concur, we can hammer this." Her husky whisper came out louder than expected, but she ignored the comical glances she received from those sitting nearby.

"_Nail_ it, Bones." Booth corrected with a chuckle. "We'll _nail _it."

Also deciding to disregard the rest of what their moderator was saying, the anthropologist reached for a pen from the middle of the table and, in a very typical-Brennan style, carefully wrote her name in the upper right corner of the paper before launching into test-mode and scrawling her answers in earnest.

"So, let's go ahead and take some time to answer as many questions as possible." Andrew stacked up his note cards and finished his glass of water. "Once you've finished answering your questions, you are welcome to break off into pairs and discuss. Again, we ask that you're honest with each other and with your scoring; remember that your bonus points will not be based on how many answers are right or wrong, but instead on your willingness to share, and the level of uniqueness of your newly acquired knowledge."

There were plenty of chuckles and giggles echoing through the room as teammates and colleagues answered questions to the best of their, _occasionally limited_, abilities. Various partners exchanged jokes and humorous insults in between grunts and groans as they continued to read, imagining some of the answers that could be fabricated by their counterparts. Booth and Brennan, thinking about the many tests that Sweets had subjected them to, playfully covered their answers from peeking glances and coyly eyed each other sideways.

It took a mere eight minutes for Brennan to complete her page and only three minutes more before Booth was finished. Without speaking, they agreed to move their chairs aside, over to the same corner where the previous day's team building exercise had gone terribly wrong. Sitting face to face, close enough that their knees touched, they glanced around, noticing a few other pairs who were just starting to stir as well.

"See those two guys over there?" Booth motioned to the opposite side of the room, speaking quietly. "The gray haired guys?"

"Yes."

"That's Williams and Mahoney. They've been partners for something like eighteen years up in Maine." His eyes swiveled back to his own partner. "Talk about _legends…_. I think they're currently the longest continuously-partnered agents on payroll right now."

"Wow… Eighteen years?" Her eyebrows rose towards her hairline and she considered the men who looked more as if they were just having a chat than comparing answers to their questionnaires. "Do you know them well?"

"Kinda." He shrugged one shoulder. "Mostly just from other workshops and conventions. Mahoney, he's the older one, conducted a few sessions back when I was at Quantico. He's a good agent. A _really _good one." He looked back at the most senior partners of the conference. "They broke that big RICO case a couple years ago. You know, the one that was intertwined with the Identity Theft ring?"

"Yes, I remember," Brennan nodded as she listened and further observed the men who sat against the far wall. "That was the one in which they requested Angela's assistance with the computer program, right?"

"Yep." Booth smiled. "Angela did well for them… Made quite a name for herself."

"Well," she smirked, "our squints _are _the best… Even the _least _squinty of us..."

Booth threw his head back with a bark of laughter. "I'll never forget the day I realized that she was actually one of you… At first, she seemed so unassuming… And then I heard about her patent- pending systems and saw her prototype computer programs and forensics analysis… And I knew… She _talked _normal and _acted _normal…but she was _really _one of your geniuses!"

Brennan batted her eyelashes playfully. "I only hire the best, Booth. Why would she be any different?"

"See, I didn't _know _that back then…" He tucked the pen he was holding behind one ear. "But I learned soon enough." With a wink, he motioned to the paper in his hand. "Whatcha think, should we discuss this?"

Nodding eagerly, she scooted to the front of her seat, squaring her shoulders with nerdy excitement. "I am quite confident that I answered these questions accurately."

For the next several minutes, the partners ignored the increasing movement around them as people broke away from tables and shuffled chairs elsewhere, and they simply compared notes. They discussed everything from the aforementioned favorite colors to favorite foods, middle names and high-overview family history, education levels, childhood memories and career aspirations. The questions most often segued into side conversations, during which they exchanged information that may or may not have been new, but made for good discussion nonetheless. When Simmons finally called attention to the group, Booth and Brennan were surprised that their time had gone so fast.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if we could start to reconvene?" He looked around the room as he gained attention. Smiling, he continued. "From what I could gather, it sounds like there were some great topics of discussion happening around the room. It's great to hear so many of you sharing stories and trading best practices… That type of behavior and openness is what this sort of forum is designed to invoke." He motioned to his fellow facilitators to join him at the front of the room. "By now, I'm sure everyone knows the conference facilitators and moderators. They were observing as you all broke off into your partnerships, and it seems they were quite pleased with what they witnessed."

Over the course of the next ninety minutes, facilitators took turns inviting pairs at random to stand up and share some of the things they'd learned. While some people kept their newly learned facts closely guarded, answering just the basic questions asked of them, most people offered up a wealth of information directly related to their shared conversations, often telling stories and anecdotes, many of which, if one was paying close enough attention, could easily relate to just about any partnership and a plethora of circumstances. Although Booth and Brennan hadn't revealed anything earth-shattering during their private discussion, they both participated in the group session in sharing information. Brennan explained she'd learned that Booth's mother had written and performed the commercial jingle for one of her favorite childhood breakfast cereals. As she started describing the lyrics, several attendees of similar age suddenly broke out in song, and before long, the room was filled with a scattering of people singing off-key versions of the _Monster Pops_ tune. When Booth's turn came next, once the room finally settled, he cheated, but got away with it. He told the room that he learned his partner's favorite childhood cereal was, in fact, _Monster Pops_.

By the time everyone in the room had told a story or shared a memory, there was a renewed air of camaraderie among the attendees. Simmons thanked the room for playing along and pointed out that this particular team building experience was one of the most enjoyable sessions he'd ever monitored in all his years of hosting conventions. He advised his charges that the team standings would be updated by the following morning, taking into account all the participation that had unfolded throughout the day. As the crowd started to disperse, Booth placed a hand on Brennan's shoulder to get her attention.

"You wanna meet Williams and Mahoney?"

Brennan's line of vision followed Booth's indication and she nodded absently, shrugging one shoulder. "If you would like to introduce me, sure."

"Yeah," Booth looked down at her and smiled. "I didn't even know they were here this week. And, I wouldn't mind saying hello, and of course I'd like to introduce you."

Brennan grinned, pleased that he wanted her to meet the people he knew. "We should catch them, then," she pointed in their direction. "Looks like they're heading towards the exit."

Ushering her through the thinning crowd, Booth nodded at a few acquaintances and when he caught Mahoney's attention, he smiled broadly in response to the older man's greeting.

"Seeley Booth!" Philip Mahoney extended his wide hand, happy to see Booth. Since the first time the seasoned agent encountered Booth, he'd had high expectations for the former Army Ranger, and while following the D.C. Agent's career in Violent Crimes, he was not disappointed.

"Mahoney! How the hell ya' been?" Booth responded with a wide smile as he firmly accepted the handshake. "This here is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan, from the Jeffersonian Institute." His empty palm never left her back, keeping her close at his side. "Bones, this is Phil Mahoney. He was one of the trainers I studied under at Quantico."

"Hello Agent Mahoney," Brennan extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Mahoney smiled. "It's great to meet you, Dr. Brennan. I've heard wonderful things about you and Booth, and your amazing track record."

Williams stepped forward, shaking Booth's hand as well. "Hey, man. How ya' doin'?"

Booth also introduced his partner to Williams. "This is Chuck Williams, Bones. These guys've been partners longer than anyone." He turned back to Williams. "What's it been, eighteen years?"

"No. Nineteen and a half years!" Mahoney laughed. "Been with this joker longer than I've been with my wife!" The four chatted for a little while, their conversation light and cordial. As they started to part ways, they promised to have lunch together before the end of the week.

Walking through the main hotel corridors, Brennan and Booth each checked their phones for texts and messages. "I need to have a video conference with the lab," Brennan mentioned while reading an email. "A set of remains was brought in today and Dr. Edison would like to consult before making a final declaration."

Listening to a voicemail from Charlie in one ear, he heard Brennan in his other. "Yeah, ok," he pocketed his phone. "Charlie said a package was couriered to the front desk for me. There're some forms he needs my signature on." He looked at his partner. "You wanna go ahead upstairs and do your conference and I'll see you in a bit?"

"Sure." She glanced at her watch. "What time are we supposed to meet Mickey and his wife?"

"The reservations are for 7:30. We can plan to meet them a little before that, so, if we leave here by about 6:50-7:00 that should be fine."

Nodding, she calculated in her mind. "Alright. That will work." She looked up, meeting his eyes. "So I'll see you upstairs?"

"Yep." He watched her walk towards the elevator and he could tell she was already thinking about her impending conversation with the lab. As she walked blindly towards the shiny stainless steel doors, it was obvious from her distracted pace and her posture, that she was studying images that had been sent to her phone. Once he saw she was on her way up, he headed over to the concierge desk in the lobby.

"Hi, I understand a package was left here for me - Seeley Booth."

The gentleman excused himself and walked over to the house safe, where he extracted a large brown envelope and had Booth sign for it. The agent moved over to the lounge chairs in the center of the room and plopped down unceremoniously, tearing open the sealed flap. He spent the next thirty minutes reviewing the documentation that Charlie had couriered over before he began signing the forms that required his signature as Special Agent in Charge. As he neared the final few pages, he made a quick call to the courier service the FBI had on contract for emergency runs, making arrangements for the courier to come back and collect the return package. Sealing everything into a new envelope, he addressed it as necessary and returned to the concierge desk.

"Hi again." He held the package in his hands. "Paramount Couriers are come back to collect this." He placed the envelope on the counter. "Can I sign it back in?"

"Of course, Mr. Booth," the older man turned to a fresh page in his logbook, completing the necessary information before turning the book to face Booth. "If you will sign here and here, sir," he passed him the pen and slid the over-sized envelope into a clear plastic, tamper-proof bag. As Booth penned his name, he noticed briefly that the security bags being used by the hotel concierge reminded him of evidence bags, and he smirked. "Seems I can't get away from those things," he pointed to the bag as the man peeled away the strip exposing the industrial strength glue that would hold the package closed.

"Of course, sir." The concierge actually had no idea what Booth was talking about, but it wasn't his job to question their guests; it was his job to ensure the guests were happy. "Will there be anything else, sir?" He tore off the perforated numbered tab that correlated with the bar code printed on the bag. Handing it to Booth, he noticed that the visitor seemed distracted. "Sir?"

"Oh, right, sorry." He turned back and accepted the receipt tab, pocketing it while he jerked his chin towards the shop window. "What time do they open," he glanced back at the man's name-tag, "Edward?"

"Ah, well, the clerk just had to go down to the supply closet to collect something. She should be back very shortly."

"Great," Booth smiled, handing Edward a tip for his service. "Thanks, man. Paramount should be here to pick that up in the next 20 minutes or so," he once again referenced the package. "I'll just hang around until the clerk comes back. There's something I wanna look at in there." He nodded and bid the man a good day as he wandered over to the window display, studying the content with interest.

B/B/B/B

Brennan texted the lab on her way up to the room, letting them know she would be ready to video conference within the next few minutes, and asked them to prepare whatever questions they had. Once she reached the room and initiated the conference call on her laptop, her monitor was immediately filled with the image of a giddy-Angela leaning close to the camera.

"Hello, sweetie," her broad smile told of a secret that Brennan knew the artist was struggling to keep hidden. "How is your day?" She shook her head, her loose, long brown locks swaying gently. "Oh, pfft," she made a raspberry noise. "Never mind your day, how was your _evening_?"

"Good afternoon, Angela. I am calling because Dr. Edison indicated he needed my assistance." Brennan ignored her friend's blatant prod for information.

"Yeah, Clark's on his way over, but first, I _**need **_to know!"

The Anthropologist rolled her eyes and avoided the subject. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." Shifting her gaze, she saw movement behind Angela. "Ange, move to the side, I think Dr. Edison is ready for me."

Huffing in frustration, Angela's shoulders sagged in defeat. "_Fine_." She sidestepped so that the video camera could see the room and Clark could finally have his audience. But the nosy artist stayed close, hovering just behind Clark as he began speaking.

"Thank you for calling, Dr. Brennan." His tone was all-business, just as he preferred to conduct his interactions. "I am very sorry to bother you during your conference, it's just… I've found some anomalies on the most recent set of remains, and I can't seem to work them out." He reached forward to the keyboard, so he could share his screen with the conferencing anthropologist. "Here are the three-hundred-sixty degree images, side by side with the x-rays."

"Can you give me a brief description of the circumstances surrounding the remains?" Brennan spoke to her colleague while studying one of the images, taking control of the picture and manipulating it so she could view the entire bone in a virtual-reality-fashion. As she listened to Clark explain that the body had been discovered in a long abandoned factory, frequented by homeless squatters, she became fascinated with what she was seeing.

When Clark stopped talking, Angela took that as her clue to interrupt her concentrating-friend. "Honey, where's Booth?"

Clicking to another image, and turning it from side to side, Brennan answered without looking at the woman. "Downstairs. There was something waiting for him in reception."

"Ok, good. So if he's not there, he can't hear you spill the beans...so _talk_!" She physically pushed Clark aside, so she could once again get close to the camera.

Fully understanding the colloquialism, Brennan opted instead, to, as Booth liked to put it, _play dumb_. "I don't have any beans to spill, Ange." She continued to study the image. "Dr. Edison," she raised her voice to ensure the younger man could hear her over Angela's frustrated sighs. "Please pull up the full body x-rays and let me review them."

Unsuccessful in reaching the keyboard with Angela in the way, Clark pinched his expression and grunted through a clenched jaw. "_**Excuse me**_, Angela!" With his shoulder, he pushed her gently to the side. Punching a few keys, he pulled up the file she requested and opened the x-rays. As soon as he had done that, Angela was once again invading his personal space, shoving herself between him and the camera.

"Sweetie, c'mon, you gotta tell me what I interrupted last night… You were clearly disoriented when I called… I thought you were asleep, but I think _now _I know the truth, don't I?" She winked and nearly squealed in barely restrained excitement. "Oh honey, _please _tell me you two are getting your shit together." She rubbed her hands together. "And please _please _tell me you're jumping his hot bod every chance you get… Did he absolutely _love _your bathing suit? I bet he nearly swallowed his own tongue didn't he?" She rambled without giving Brennan a chance to answer. "You looked _delectable _in that suit… Mmm mmm mmm..."

"Oh my God," Clark rolled his eyes upward and groaned. "Really? Can't we, _just once_, focus on _work _without it becoming a personal, _completely inappropriate_, conversation?" He looked at Angela in disbelief. "You're distracting Dr. Brennan from this case!"

"I'm not distracted," she muttered, "I have excellent multi-tasking abilities." Still studying the images on the computer, Brennan continued speaking. "It's completely understandable that Angela is preoccupied with sexual contemplations, Dr. Edison." Her eyes never wavered from her study, as she leaned closer to the monitor and turned an image to her desired angle. "She's pregnant, and at this point of her gestation, her libido is extremely elevated." She completely ignored the mumblings that were emanating from Clark as he dropped his chin to his chest, as well as the stifled giggle that erupted from her best friend. "In fact, I dare say that her hormonal emotions and desires are peaked, almost to the equivalent level as those she would experience during menstruation, when her body is ideally prepared and hungry for copulation."

He slapped his open palm to his face and turned away from the video conference, walking over to the table where his victim's remains were anatomically laid out. "I don't know why I keep coming back here…" He muttered under his breath, certain no one had heard him. He was mistaken.

"You continue to report to work, Dr. Edison, because we pay you to do so. _And _because we are the best forensics research lab in the country, so the experience you gain in our employ is incomparable." She stifled a smirk, realizing what her ramblings had done to the man, but distracted by the case enough that she didn't waver. "What was the condition of the soft tissue when the remains were found?"

"There wasn't much left of the victim, Dr. Brennan." Clark was happy the conversation was back on topic. "What little there was had been tattered and clearly scavenged by rodents."

"This is quite fascinating. I believe what we are seeing is a case of fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva, or FOP for short. In the vernacular, it's also referred to as Stone Man's Disease." She swiveled her attention to Clark to see if he recognized the condition. At the doubtful expression he wore, she pulled up her internet search engine and located an article she had read a few year years earlier, sharing it on their screen for his review. "There have been only about eight hundred documented cases worldwide, so it should help in identifying the remains." Her focus shifted to Angela. "I trust you will be able to enter this information into your search parameters, and it should help limit the possible identities. Given the victim's advanced state of the ossification, I can't imagine that her case hasn't been, at the very least, diagnosed, even if she wasn't under a doctor's care at the time of her demise."

Skimming the article she had opened on the monitors, Clark nodded. "This _is _quite fascinating, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Angela pressed forward again, moving Clark aside. "It's great. Now, back to the real issue, Bren. You…. Booth…. That _deliciously _large bed I see in the background…." She jerked her chin in the direction of the empty hotel room where Brennan sat.

Sighing, Brennan flopped back in her seat, tilting her head in disbelief. "Angela, _please…_"

"Aww, c'mon, honey! Gimme something! _Anything_!" Angela practically begged her longtime friend, waving Clark off by waggling her fingers when he groaned and walked away.

"Ange…" Brennan rolled her lips between her teeth, tempted to share with her, the amazing orgasm she had experienced against Booth's hotel wall. Something told her, however, that her partner would frown at the notion of sharing such a personal interaction. Instead, she inhaled slowly. "We had a very nice time last night. We went to dinner and to the boardwalk… He taught me how to play skee-ball."

"_Skee-ball_?" Angela appeared unimpressed, arching an eyebrow high across her forehead.

Brennan smiled at the memory. "Yes. And we had pictures taken…" She brought her eyes up to meet Angela's through the camera and felt an unmistakable blush fill her cheeks. "In a photo booth…" The words were whispered, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up.

Sensing a change in her pal, Angela shifted the angle of the camera and sat down, scooting the chair as close to the desk as her pregnant belly would allow. "In a _photo booth_? I remember going into a photo booth with a boy once..." Her impish smile told an entire story itself, but she was unsuccessful at getting more scoop from Brennan.

Instead, the scientist caught herself before revealing anything more. "We are going to dinner tonight, too. With an old friend of Booth's."

"Better not be an old _girlfriend…_" Angela was instantly protective of her sometimes clueless best friend.

"It's not," she laughed. "It's an old Army friend who had recruited Booth into the FBI." Considering their morning interaction with their upcoming dinner companion, Brennan's mood shifted slightly. "We had a fight."

"Wait, what?" Angela felt like her head was spinning. "Who? You and Booth? When?"

"Yes." She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, wondering whether or not she should tell her friend. "Well, we've actually had _two _fights… In two days..."

"Honey, I thought this conference was to _help _with communication… Not _create _more problems. What the hell?"

"Actually, I think we navigated our arguments very well…" She thought silently about both of their disagreements and wondered if it was the open honesty promoted at the convention that helped to heal their fractures so quickly. She smiled. "I find I'm looking forward to dinner tonight. It's…" She was about to discuss the potential that their dinner date might help to pave the way towards the onset of a more _personal _relationship, but she heard, through the open connecting doors, Booth entering his room. "Umm," she glanced in his direction when he popped his head through the door.

"Hey, Bones!"

"Hi, Booth," she couldn't help the soft smile that tugged the corners of her lips. "I'm almost done here."

"No problem," he walked into her room without hesitation, making himself at home. "Hey Angela, how's it goin'?" He nodded at the monitor.

"Hello, Studly," she smiled coyly, not missing the fact that her best friend's partner was moving freely around the room. "We have quite an interesting case, here," she knew that Brennan would need help back-pedaling out of the conversation they'd been sharing. "Wanna hear about it?"

"Nope," Booth moved the pillow from Brennan's bed and propped it against the headboard, making a backrest for him to sit against. "I'm not workin' the case, so I don't need the deets…"

Brennan became visibly excited. "But, Booth, it really _is _an exciting case. It appears that the victim has a very rare medical condition called fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva…"

"Not listening," he ignored the fancy-sounding terminology that he'd never remember anyway, and picked up her _Anthropology Journal_ magazine, instead. "La la la la la…" He droned on and on, singing over her attempts to draw him into the case details until she finally gave up and turned back to her friend on the computer.

"I guess he _really _doesn't want to hear about it…" Brennan smiled, unable to hide her own happiness that her partner was closeby.

Angela just grinned, practically feeling the chemistry radiating between the partners from across the distance.

**Postscript A/N **

**So, not a whole heck of a lot happened here, but I had to go where the muse went. Poor Clark… I guess I hadn't tortured Clark in my other stories and the potential to torment the poor guy was just too tempting to pass up. **

**To my readers who hate the way I write Booth &amp; Brennan… There are a few of you, I think - I'm not certain since none of you sign in with names… It's a shame you read work that you don't enjoy, but I'm not going to change my style and I'm not going to apologize for my opinions. **

**I write Booth as I see him, with my own creative license. He is a bull-headed, strong-minded man with strengths that are constantly challenged by others. He has an inner anger that he deals with on a daily basis, as well as demons that the showrunners have all but ignored for his character, but I refuse to ignore. IMO, Booth has never been blindingly accepting of Brennan and her ways, not even in the show. He is often frustrated with her initially, and calms as he ponders whatever it is that she did to drive him crazy. He tries to find common ground on which they can compromise and he tries to apply anecdotes to situations to help demonstrate his POV - sometimes successfully and sometimes not - and sometimes they simply have to agree to disagree. I don't think that makes him any less in love with her. And, I don't think I've portrayed him as villainous here, or in any of my fics. And I certainly don't think I've written him as a heartless, selfish individual. If you disagree with me, then, we will have to, as B&amp;B often do, agree to disagree. **

**And as far as the way I write Brennan… I don't even know what to say to your bashing opinion of how weak and feeble you say I write her… I've NEVER intended my portrayal of this character to be 'feeble'... And you're the only person who's ever said that, so I don't know what you read that gave such an opinion, but if you see this as a 'trend' in my pieces, my only question to you is why are you still reading my shit? Just stop. Find a writer that you like and stick with their pieces, because obviously my B&amp;B are not the same B&amp;B you want to read about. **

**The rest of you, the ones who provide constructive reviews and the encouraging feedback, I want to say Thank You to you! I don't mind my errors being pointed out, I welcome that kind of feedback, because you're not attacking me personally or my style, so, Thank You. **

**~jazzy**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N Hello and welcome back!**

**Thank you all for your reviews, favorites and follows, and, perhaps even more importantly, thank you for your patience. For those of you following me through the Twitter-verse, you may have seen that both of my elderly parents have been in the hospital for different reasons and I have been fighting sinus and ear infections while dealing with that...**** It's been a helluva month and I am SO ready for things to start improving… Let's hope the powers of the Universe are on our side!**

**Now that things will hopefully be settling down, I'm thinking I might have to rent Booth for a while, just to unwind….. and then I'll just keep him around after I've unwound, just because. LOL**

**Without further ado, let's get back to our favorite duo - they've got a dinner date to get to!**

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing except this story idea!**

He tapped on their connecting door with his fingertip. "Hey, Bones," he spoke loud enough for her to hear. "I'm dressed, so, whenever you're ready." It was routine for them to simply close one of the doors whenever they were getting dressed to go out, and whoever was done first would just let the other know in this manner.

"I'm dressed, Booth, you can come in." She called out from the seat in front of her make-up mirror. When he poked his head through the widening gap, she glanced up at him, immediately pleased to see that he was wearing his charcoal gray three-piece suit; it was always one of her favorites. "I'm almost ready." She tried to hide the natural blush that filled her cheeks when she saw the appreciative expression on her partner's face as he eyed the low plunge of her open-backed dress.

"Yeah," he swallowed hard. "Ok. No problem." He shifted his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the doorjamb and just watched her. He could see her face in the mirror's reflection as she was touching up her make-up, but his dark gaze kept returning to the pale skin on display for his viewing pleasure. Her dress was silver-gray and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew they would make a striking couple walking into the restaurant, both wearing gray. He followed the clean line of the fitted bodice as it hugged her sides down to where curved at her hips, but he couldn't see anything more since she was sitting. Noticing that her arm was no longer moving, as it had just been while applying lipstick, he moved his attention back to the mirror, and caught her watching him. Raising one side of his lips in a charming smile, he pushed off the doorjamb and walked towards her, holding her gaze in the reflection.

Brennan felt an eruption of activity in her abdomen at the way Booth's eyes seemed to darken when he looked at her. She'd suspected he would like the style of dress, but hadn't planned on being able to see his reaction to the mostly-open back. Feeling decidedly feminine under his scrutiny, she decided to simply sit still and let him have his fill of looking at her. After all, if he felt anything remotely close to the pleasure she experienced while watching him, she didn't want to break the spell. As he closed the distance between them slowly, she smiled softly, admiring the way his vest hugged his body.

Happy to see that she hadn't yet made a jewelry selection, Booth's fingers rubbed against the box in his pocket. "Close your eyes," he said quietly as he came to stand behind her.

Her forehead instantly wrinkled, not understanding why she had to cease her own eye-fill. "What?" She started to turn in her seat, but his warm hands came to rest on her shoulders, holding her in place.

"Humor me," he grinned and cocked an eyebrow, meeting her eyes in the mirror reflection. "Please?"

Brennan was not entirely comfortable having her eyes closed when she knew someone was looking at her, for reasons that she was never really able to verbalize. If she were to mention it to Sweets, she might expect him to relate it to her trust issues or fears of abandonment. But she inherently knew that there was no reason to mistrust her partner, so she slowly let her eyelids fall closed. Inhaling the distinct masculine scent that had always betrayed his presence when he tried to sneak up on her, she felt a sense of comfort wash over her body.

Recognizing her hesitation, Booth waited patiently as she studied him in the mirror before ultimately acquiescing to his request. When he could no longer see her brilliant blues, he let his dark chocolates sweep once more over her face and across her back, fighting against his itching fingers wanting to touch the expanse of creamy white skin on display. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small box and opened it. Before placing it in front of his partner, he extracted the necklace, leaving just the earrings resting on the cotton within. Opening the tiny clasp with his thick fingers, he reached over her head, resting the stones in place as he fastened the closure at the nape of her neck and then pulled her hair back in place. He could hear her breath hitch when she sensed his proximity and felt the gentle weight of the chain against her neck. Bending over, he placed his face beside hers, to see what the necklace reflection would look once she saw it. Happy with the length, placement and appearance of the dangling crystals against the dark material, he smiled, awed by her beauty.

"Open your eyes," he said softly, his lips close to her ear, his breath sending a shiver through her body.

Licking her lips nervously, Brennan was suddenly very much aware of the unappealing, synthetic flavor of her organic lipstick. She took a deep breath and opened her blues, immediately focusing on her reflection and the shiny baubles that now stared back. Reaching up, she traced her sensitive fingertips over the cool surfaces of the crystals. Moving them gently, she smiled at the way the light caught the faceted angles and flashed various colors.

"Booth," her eyes flicked to his and then back to her own reflection. "This is…" Her head tilted as she continued fingering the stones. "This is beautiful."

He reached around her, pulling the box closer. "There are earrings, too," he said softly. "But I thought you should put them in," he grinned and winked. "I didn't figure you'd appreciate me pawing at your earlobes in an attempt to surprise you."

Her pale gaze fell to the vanity top and she studied the earrings. "I love these…" Her voice was warm and full of wonder as she immediately plucked them from the box, threading them through her ears without second thought. Pausing to look at her reflection, she quickly moved her eyes to Booth's image as he stared back at her with a crooked smile. "You've done too much, Booth." She knew he was on a limited budget, but recognized that he never batted an eyelash at surprising her at the most unexpected times.

The agent shrugged and pushed up to his full height, reaching back into his pocket. "Well, I went in there for this," he pulled out a new silver chain for her dolphin charm and handed it to her, giving her a few seconds to realize what it was for. "But when I saw these," his fingers scooped behind the crystals dangling from her ears when she looked up at him from her perch, "I knew I wasn't getting outta there without them, too…"

Brennan stood up and leaned in, wrapping her arms around his torso up looping her hands up to his shoulders. "Thank you," she pressed a tender kiss to the side of his neck and inhaled, taking in his intoxicating scent as she let her eyelids fall closed. When his wide, calloused hands swept down her back, skipping over her bare skin lightly, she couldn't stop the shiver from following the trail of his touch. She didn't have her shoes on yet, making her considerably shorter than he, but the anthropologist decided she liked the feeling, so she simply enjoyed the sensation of being wrapped in Booth's embrace.

Running his hands down her spine, until they settled on the small arch of her back, Booth hummed in response to her kiss. She smelled heavenly and felt even better; his addiction to her was cemented in his consciousness, and it was a habit that he had zero intentions of fighting. "The stones reminded me of your eyes," he said softly. "The clerk said their appearance would change, depending on their background. I'm glad you're wearing this dress… Dark colors make the blues pop." His fingertips danced unapologetically at the base of her open-backed dress, tracing the hem against the silky softness of her skin. He nuzzled his nose into the loose curls on the side of her head. He knew his partner was accustomed to having expensive pieces of jewelry, but reminded himself that some of her favorite pieces were an old pair of earrings that were her mother's and a few ancient, chunky beads that she converted to pendants. "I know they're not diamonds or anything, but-"

"I don't need diamonds, Booth," she cut off his disclaimer immediately, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "This is a lovely set. This means more than diamonds," she tilted her head and looked into his eyes, wanting to ensure he believed her assurances. The partners fell silent, settling comfortably into a _moment _as they each took the opportunity to simply enjoy their proximity.

Unable to hold off any longer, Booth brought his hand up and gently palmed Brennan's jaw. Swiping his thumb across her zygomatic bone, he watched as a healthy pink flush spread across her nose and filled her cheeks, coloring her porcelain complexion prettily. "You're beautiful," he whispered as he closed the distance. Pressing a kiss to her impossibly soft lips, he hummed when she responded instantly, pushing up to the balls of her feet to meet him.

Their kiss was tender, sweet and soft... And completely opposite to their heated, impromptu make-out session in the photo booth the night before, and a world away from the frenzy that happened against the wall of his hotel room before Angela's inconveniently-timed interruption. Nevertheless, Brennan felt a flurry of activity erupt in her abdomen in response to his touch, and her body reacted to the combination of his fingers lightly stroking up and down her back while his other hand cupped her throat lovingly. Pulling herself against his body as fully as possible, the scientist tightened her fingers around his shoulders, holding him firmly in place.

"Mmm…" He started to pull back, reluctant to start anything too heated.

Brennan blushed at her uncontrollable desire and ran her fingers along the masculine angles of his cheek and jaw. "Sorry," she chuckled.

"Don't be," he was honest, not wanting an apology. "We're just gonna have to leave soon… and if I keep kissing you, we'll never get outta here…"

Pleased with his admission, the scientist slowly backed away, trailing her hands along the smooth material of his suit. "Well, I just need to get my shoes." Walking over to the closet, she slipped her feet into low heels and grabbed her purse, certain she had everything she needed for their evening.

Checking his watch, Booth nodded. "Perfect timing, Bones," his wide palms slid smoothly around her waist until he reached the low scooping 'U' of the soft material, just at the small of her back, where his fingertips grazed bare skin. He pressed a kiss against her temple and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her sweet scent. "We should get going," he said quietly, his fingers still tracing the hem of her dressback, seemingly unable to stop himself from touching her skin.

A frenzie of flutters erupted in Brennan's abdomen at the husky timbre of her partner's words and her fingers gripped his thick biceps firmly. She shivered at the sensation caused by his warm breath ghosting over her skin. Leaning into his familiar embrace, the scientist fought against every inward desire to suggest they stay in for the evening, but she had to remind herself that they weren't quite at 'that' point in their relationship, _yet_.

B/B/B/B

"Geez, I guess it's a lucky thing Mickey was even able to get reservations," Booth said as he ushered his partner through the thick crowd. "This place is packed!"

"It does appear to be _quite _a popular gathering place," she replied distractedly as she studied the wide array of patrons waiting near the entryway of the restaurant. Yielding to the familiar pressure of his guiding hand, she wove through the throngs of socializing individuals and stepped aside when he reached around her to open the door.

Booth immediately spotted their dinner mates and he fanned his fingers wide across Brennan's lower back, ushering her through the lobby. "Over there," he drew her attention to the reception desk, where Mickey and Jeannie were obviously checking-in. As they approached, they bypassed a long line of customers and joined Mickey and his wife just as they were leaving the hostess stand.

"Seeley Booth!" Jeannie was a petite woman with a pixie haircut that belied her true age of fifty. Her face became animated as she threw her arms around Booth's torso and cooed playfully against his chest. "It's been too long, Seeley! I've missed you!"

Booth chuckled in response to his friend's wife, who only came up to his sternum, and he hugged her loosely, as he would a relative, greeting her warmly. "Jeannie, it's great to see you, too."

"Good evening, Temperance," Mickey greeted Brennan with a familiarity of a long-time friend rather than a new acquaintance as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You look lovely."

"Thank you, Mickey," she returned the greeting with a friendly smile. "And thank you for making the reservations, it is very busy here."

"Yeah, this place has rave reviews on the tourist site. Their chef is supposed to be top rated." Mickey glanced around at the crowd. "The hostess said we should be seated in about five minutes." He extended his hand to Booth in a hearty greeting. "Hey, Booth. Glad you guys could make it."

"Bones," Booth's palm found its way to his partner's back once again, drawing her closer to his side. "This is Mickey's wife, Jean," he gestured to the small woman who appeared to be bursting with barely contained excitement. "Jeannie, this is my part-"

Jean thrust her hand out, eager to meet her favorite author, interrupting what she was certain would have been Booth's standard introduction. "There is no introduction necessary, Dr. Temperance Brennan, it's such a pleasure."

Brennan accepted the handshake gracefully, with a warm smile. "Jean, it's very nice to meet you, also." Stepping back alongside Booth, she tilted her head at the woman. "And please, call me Temperance. Or Tempe is fine."

"Mickey made me promise not to fawn all over you, and I won't." Jean grinned. "But I just need to tell you that I've been a huge fan since your very first book. _And_, I didn't know you were partners with Seeley until I saw your dedication to him!" She playfully slapped Booth's shoulder. "I couldn't believe you kept that kind of information from us."

Booth barked a laugh and smoothed his hand down his vest. "Hey, I told Mickey about Bones way back during our first case." He winked at his old pal. "It's not my fault your husband refrained from sharing that little bit of gossip."

"She hadn't even been published back then!" Jean rebuked Booth's disclaimer with good humor. "I wouldn't have known her name at that point!"

"During our very first case, I hadn't even _considered _writing a novel yet," Brennan chimed in, instantly feeling comfortable in the company of Mickey and his wife. "It wasn't until after we concluded the case that I really started contemplating the possibility." She smiled at Booth, recalling the roller coaster of emotions she'd experienced during that first case.

Smirking, Booth puffed his chest out in cocky assurance. "Yeah, I was such an inspiration to her, she had to create Agent Andy to immortalize me…"

Brennan rolled her eyes and looked between Mickey and Jean. "No matter what Booth tells you, my characters are _purely fictional_. I don't know how many times I've told him that Agent Andy is _not _based on him."

Mickey chuckled and wrapped his arm around his wife, speaking to her in a stage-whisper. "Something tells me this is an old argument..." As the hostess motioned for their party to follow her to the dining room, the partners responded in turn with their typical comeback.

"We don't argue."

"We bicker."

"There's a difference…"

B/B/B/B

Dinner was a huge success. Brennan and Jeannie got along splendidly and before the end of their meal, made arrangements that when Brennan visited her brother in North Carolina later in the summer, they would plan a lunch date. Booth was happy to see his partner at ease with his friends, and the conversations flowed as easily as the red wine did. The foursome talked about everything from current events to family, childhood memories to summer plans. Mickey and Booth shared a few light-heart military stories and Mickey tried his damnedest to find a tale that would embarrass Booth, but failed miserably. Jeannie shared funny tidbits from her volunteer hours at their local senior community center and compared them with the antics of preschool kids at the daycare where she worked, and Brennan spoke of adventures in the Central American jungles that were complicated by language barriers and anthropological misunderstandings.

Their meals were delicious; the popularity of the restaurant was well-warranted and the chef was everything he'd been hyped up to be. Mickey and Jean watched and simply smiled knowingly when, without missing a beat in their conversation, Booth moved his plate and scooped his vegetables onto Brennan's dish and, in turn, took half of her potato onto his, all of which occurred during a topic of discussion that had absolutely nothing to do with trading food whatsoever.

Once their table was cleared and dessert was ordered, Brennan excused herself to use the restroom, and in typical female fashion, Jean decided to go as well. As the ladies walked away and the men were re-seated, watching their respective dates disappear into the crowded lobby, a familiar camaraderie settled over the former Army Rangers. Mickey looked at Booth and grinned, seeing the focused way his friend's dark eyes followed his partner until she was completely out of sight.

"So," the senior agent leaned back in his chair, "that whole _we're just partners_ line is a bunch of bullshit, isn't it?" His eyes danced humorously when Booth's attention snapped back to him, alarm written on his younger friend's face before a well-rehearsed mask took its place.

"What? No..." Booth smoothed his hand down his tie until he reached the upper edge of his vest. He almost fell back into the comfortable retort that had been second nature for eight long years, but he knew his long time buddy knew better. "I mean," he shrugged, unable to hide the crooked smile peeking out from the corner of his mouth. Looking towards the archway where the ladies had exited, he inhaled and turned back to Mickey. "It's complicated."

"What's so complicated!?" Mickey leaned forward with a chuckle, resting his forearms on the table. "You're nuts about her… A blind man could see _that_." He watched Booth's expression soften. "And even though I've just met Temperance this week, from what I see, she's pretty much smitten with you, too, there, buddy." He nodded to the waiter, accepting a cup of coffee before continuing. "What's so complicated? Is it the fraternization rule? You know there are ways around that…"

"No, that's not it…" Booth tried to think of a way to consolidate eight years of pushing and pulling into a two minute summary. "We've always kept a line, you know, separating personal and professional…avoided getting involved… We're great partners, and we didn't want to risk that relationship..the friendship... But _hell_...lately…" He shook his head and glanced around the room, not looking at anything in particular, just observing before looking back at his friend. "We just decided, why fight it, y'know? Why should we deny ourselves something that could be _amazing _just because we're afraid of what might happen if things go south?" He grinned and met Mickey's eyes once more. "So, we're figuring things out…"

"From that look on your face, looks like you've figured it out already." The older man lifted his coffee cup, testing the temperature and taking a sip to hide his knowing grin. "You've got it bad, Seel."

Unaffected by his friend's good-natured observation, Booth stirred sugar into his coffee. Taking a drink, he nodded once. "She's great, isn't she?"

"She's a remarkable woman," the reply was honest. "And she's good for you."

Booth saw the women re-enter the dining room from across the distance and his keen eyes followed Brennan as she wove through the maze of tables. "Yeah," he answered Mickey without looking at his friend. "She is…"

The server filled their coffee cups as soon as the ladies were seated and refreshed the guys' beverages in turn. A light conversation resumed and it was quite obvious that no one was in a big hurry for their evening to end.

"When we were in the lobby," Jeannie spoke up, "the restaurant manager mentioned a local jazz club just around the corner. He said it was a nice, quiet place with good quality music..." Her eyes flicked between her husband to their companions. "It's not supposed to be like the dance clubs where you can't even hear yourself think..."

Booth's eyes swiveled to Brennan to see if she'd be receptive to continuing their date. Glancing at his watch, he cocked an eyebrow. "It's only 9:35." One corner of his lips curled up, knowing how much his partner enjoyed live jazz music. "Whatcha think, Bones?"

Brennan nodded with a smile. "I think it sounds perfect," her eyes moved to Mickey and saw he, too, was in agreement.

"Alright, then," Mickey pushed back from the table. "The night is young, let's find out where this lounge is."

B/B/B/B

Axe Interlude was only a short walk from the restaurant and proved to be a perfect place to wrap up their evening. They were escorted to a u-shaped booth far enough from the stage where the music was not disturbing but close enough they could all see the performers without obstruction. The ladies enjoyed house wine while the men knocked back a couple fingers of bourbon each and their laid-back companionship continued.

"Y'know, Bones," Booth's arm was across the back of the plush purple seat, his fingers tracing nonsensical designs on her upper arm where they rested comfortably. "Mickey wants me to take over his position down in Charlotte." He spoke aloud to his partner while watching his pal across the table.

"Oh?" Brennan tried to crush the sudden wave of anxiety that swelled in her chest at the notion that Booth would take a promotion so far from DC. Her pale gaze moved from her partner to Mickey, to whom she cocked an eyebrow in unspoken question.

Snorting, Mickey took a sip of the rich Amber liquid and savored the burning sensation as it hit his throat. "Yeah, well," he shrugged one shoulder and winked at his wife. "I hear Booth is ready for a promotion… And Jeannie and I want to retire and travel…" He moved his eyes back to his former Army brother and settled his arm around his own date, continuing to address Brennan's silent inquiry with a grin. "But somethin' tells me that he's not gonna take the bait."

Tugging Brennan closer against his side, so his arm was around her shoulders rather than resting on the seat, he shook his head twice. "Hell no." He felt his partner's posture instantly relax into him. "Got too much goin' for me in the District." He took a drink. "My son is there, my partner is there, our squints are there…" His hand slid from Brennan's shoulder back to her upper arm, but kept her close.

Momentarily lost in the idea of transferring to North Carolina with Booth, if he were to ever move, Brennan narrowed her eyes in thought, glancing between Mickey and Jeannie. "While it would be nice to be closer to my brother's family, and have the opportunity to become better acquainted with Amy and the girls," she moved her gaze back to Booth, "I would miss our team terribly…" Seeing the realization in Booth's deep-set eyes, that she would actually consider transferring with him, she blushed. "And perhaps more importantly, I suspect we," she motioned between the two of them as she moved her attention back to their friends, "would not have such a high rate of success elsewhere. The Medico-Legal Lab at the Jeffersonian Institution affords us the luxury of the best equipment money can buy operated by the greatest minds in the country." The pride she felt for the key members their team was evident. "I dare say we wouldn't be where we are today, in reference to our exceedingly high solve rate, if not for the assembly of scientists and experts with whom we've surrounded ourselves." Her hand found its way to Booth's thigh as if it was the most natural gesture in the world, and her fingernails followed the inseam absently. "I suppose, however, if the offer was inviting enough…" She tilted her head and looked back over to Booth, not finishing her sentence.

He met her eyes with a crooked smile and simply shook his head, trying to keep himself composed in the face of her ministrations. "Nope. Not moving," his thumb swept below the capped sleeve of her dress as he looked back over to his friend. "Sorry, Mickey. No can do. You'll need to find another successor..."

"Yeah, I figured." He pointed a thick forefinger at Booth. "But you can't blame me for tryin'. It was worth a shot."

"Enough FBI-talk," Jeannie interrupted and looked around the table. "I'm far more interested in learning about what first inspired Tempe to start writing fiction." She smiled and leaned against her husband, completely comfortable with their easy companionship, and hungry to learn more about her favorite author, despite her husband's warnings. "Is that too personal a question?"

Brennan laughed and shook her head. "Not at all," she found herself uncharacteristically happy to share a little bit of her history with the petite woman sitting across from her. Jeannie had been extremely forthcoming throughout their evening in sharing stories and anecdotes about herself, and Brennan felt it was only fair play to reciprocate.

As the clock unwound and their evening grew later, stories, laughter and friendship wove themselves into a tapestry of newly-made memories, courtesy of the flow of alcohol combined with the smooth sounds of the soft jazz vocalist and trio. As if perfectly orchestrated, at one convenient juncture, Mickey excused himself from the table just as their daughter called Jeannie's cellphone and she accepted the call with a quick apology, and a particularly romantic song filled the room. Booth looped his forearm around Brennan's neck, pulling her closer, so he could speak against her ear.

"Dance with me..."

His breath against her skin, the deep gravelly timbre of his gentle demand and his possessive hold sent shivers down Brennan's spine. Tightening her hand on his leg, suddenly aware that it had moved quite high on his thigh, she chanced a glance at the tiny dance floor. There were a few couples dancing as the crooning melody filled the lounge. With a tiny nod, she raised her pale eyes to meet her partner's and they slid from the booth with a silent gesture, letting Jeannie know where they were going.

When he ushered her to the far corner, finally sliding his hands around her hips, she melted against his body, hungry to feel his thick arms surrounding her. "Remember when we danced at my reunion?" She spoke against his jawline, inhaling sharply so she could fill her lungs with the scent of his cologne.

"Mm-hmm," his hands moved from her hips until his fingertips met just above the swell of her ass. Pulling her firmly, he extinguished any space separating them. With his nose nuzzling against her hair, he dropped a kiss on the upper shell of her ear. "Of all our cases, that was probably one of the most challenging for me…" One hand moved up, spreading wide across her silky skin, while the other hand dropped a little further, _just _this side of avoiding a public display. "The way you looked at me when those stars fell from the ceiling," he craned his neck so he could look at her. "You looked so...enchanted...beautiful…"

She smiled and grazed her fingers along the clean line of short hairs at the back of his muscular neck. "It _was _enchanting, Booth." Her other arm looped upward, so she was gripping his shoulder tightly. "I felt like I'd finally gone to my prom…" The quiet, breathy quality to her voice told Booth that she was stuck in a daydream of sorts.

"But back then, I couldn't have done this," his voice was low and seductive as he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against the corner of her smiling lips, feeling the world around them slowly slip away, as was so often the case when they were together.

She hummed in approval and stretched up to reach his mouth, suddenly wanting more. Their dance was barely more than a gentle sway as he accepted her advance, parting his lips in instant invitation. He held her possessively; one hand still splayed wide, covering as much of her bare back as possible as his other palm pulling her closer, using the small of her back to hold her steady, certain she could feel the effect she was having on him. When he swallowed her throaty moan, he knew she was just as affected, fighting the rush of passion that was quickly threatening to take over their carefully constructed public guises and professional appearances.

Reminded of their surroundings as the song changed to another slow, seductive melody, Booth quickly regained control of the kiss, lessening the pressure while increasing their movement to the rhythms. Finally breaking from her lips, he rubbed her nose with his and shifted so their cheeks brushed together. The hand on her back continued its ministrations, his calloused fingers skimming across the silky skin exposed for him.

"I _really _like this dress," he admitted shamelessly with a growl as the fingers of his other hand flexed against the upper swell of her bottom.

Brennan grinned, happy to've elicited that reaction from him, even though she had been secretly expecting it. "I'm glad," her breathy reply was accompanied by a quiet chuckle. "I was hoping you would…"

Booth pulled back and looked down at her, raising an eyebrow at her brazen response. With a smirk, he let his eyes take in the healthy flush filling her cheeks and his roving hand settled low on her spine. "You were _hoping_, huh?"

Her pale eyes flashed teasingly. "You don't think I packed this dress for its comfort, did you?"

Throwing his head back, he laughed, loving the coy, sexy side of her that she was finally revealing. Rocking them deliberately to the slow beats, he jostled her playfully. "Silly me…. Here I thought Dr. Temperance Brennan only packed _practical _attire…"

Back at the table, Mickey and Jean observed the partners on the dance floor. Watching Booth's head crane back with a laugh, Jeannie leaned into her husband, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulders. "He's happy."

"Sure is," Mickey nodded and looked down at his wife. "I'm glad for him… He's a good guy and it's good that he found someone worthy." He tilted his head, resting his forehead against hers. "I've worried about him for a long time, y'know? He's one of the few guys from my past that I always _really _liked… One that I always hoped would find the kind of love I found with you."

Giggling happily at her husband's admission, Jean knew that he was feeling the effects of the considerable amount of liquor that he and said-friend had ingested over the course of their evening. "I'm happy for him, too," she confessed. "Of all your Army buddies, I think I've always been most drawn to Seeley…" She grinned, feeling a shameless rush of femininity at being drawn to Booth. Her husband had teased her for years about her affections for Booth, claiming that she was yet another victim, sucked in by his charming, boyish grin and dimple, but knowing that there was never any need to question her faithfulness. Her eyes followed them on the dance-floor. "And I really like Dr. Brennan."

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You're star-struck," he teased.

"No!" She slapped his chest with no intention of actually inflicting harm. "Well…. Maybe a _little…at_ _first_. But once we started talking, I realized she is just a quirky, charming person. She's a perfect counterpart for him, I think." She ran her finger down his tie. "Just like I'm perfect for you," she tempted him with a saucy eyebrow waggle. Letting Mickey kiss her fully, Jean quickly forgot about the partners and focused on her spouse, happy that even after all their years together, they still felt a strong passion for each other.

Booth's attention was drawn to their friends, who were flagging down the waitress. After Mickey spoke to the young woman, she flitted away towards the cash register. He noticed that Jean seemed to be gathering herself, as if they were preparing to leave and Booth wanted to make sure he paid their portion of the bill. "Hey," he spoke quietly to his partner, whose cheek rested on his broad shoulder as they danced. "I think Mickey and Jeannie are getting ready to go." He trailed his fingers up the center of her back until her hair covered his hand and he could rub her neck. "Do you wanna go, too? Or do you want to stay a little longer?"

Considering their options, Brennan hummed, perfectly content to remain pressed against Booth. She realized, however, that there was a very good chance that if they left as well, she would still end up in Booth's comforting embrace. The scientist nudged her nose against his ear and nodded slightly. "While I am quite enjoying our dance, I suppose would should think about heading back to the room…"

Booth barely hid the cocky smirk that poked out from the corner of his mouth when she referenced only a singular room. He slipped the fingers from his right hand, which had remained low on her back, just beneath the edge of the plunging material, barely above the dimples he knew were hidden. Pressing a soft kiss to her temple, he flexed his arms to create a quick squeeze before he started to pull back. When her clear eyes met his, the blatant desire he saw staring back at him through her dilated pupils caused his blood to boil.

"Right," he grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together. "Let's get outta here."

B/B/B/B

Deciding to share a cab, Booth made a call requesting a van so they would have breathing room, rather than squeezing into one of the compact, energy-saving cars that were so popular up and down the main strip.

"You didn't have to leave just because we were," Jeannie leaned against the much larger frame of her husband as she spoke to Brennan. The smaller woman was feeling quite tipsy and was thankful that her spouse was considerably larger and able to keep her steady as they waited on the sidewalk for their ride.

"Yeah," Mickey grinned. "We're old, we get tired quick." He winked at Booth. "You two kids could'a stayed longer."

"Ahh," Booth glanced down at Brennan and tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest and resting his open palms on her tummy. "We're good," he looked back at Mickey with a contented smile. Shrugging his shoulder and trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, despite his burning need to be alone with his partner, he smirked. "It's a school night, y'know?" Feeling his partner's posture falter, he knew she would question his phrasing, so he nipped that in the bud, resting his cheek against her head as he explained. "It's just a phrase, Bones. I know we don't have school."

Nodding in understanding, she resettled into his warmth, feeling slightly chilled by the gentle breeze but rejecting her partner's offer of his jacket. "It was a very nice jazz club, wasn't it?" She said to no one in particular, but received affirmative nods from all three companions.

"Maybe we can come back before I leave," Jean looked up at Mickey, knowing he would have other obligations, being one of the convention facilitators. "Depending on what your schedule is…"

Mickey nodded and waved to their approaching taxi. "Yeah," he placed his hand on her hip, ushering her towards the curb. "Let's try to do that, whatcha think, Booth?"

"We're game," he agreed, also starting to guide Brennan forward. "We'll take a look at the schedule and see what's what."

B/B/B/B

Having said goodnight to Mickey and Jean in the elevator when the older couple exited on the fifth floor, Booth and Brennan found themselves alone at last for their ascent to the ninth. Booth moved in, like a predator finally catching his prey, and spanned her ribs with his wide hands as he pushed her towards the wall of their elevator carriage. Descending his mouth onto hers, he swallowed her surprised gasp and slipped his tongue between her sweet, parted lips.

Quickly gaining her balance, Brennan responded, bringing her hands up to cup Booth's jaw as she returned his eager kiss with similar energy. She pressed up to her toes, wanting to be as close as possible and wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him down to her. In an instant, her mind flashed back to the previous evening and the speed with which Booth had brought her to the brink; she wanted that again.

But this time, she wanted _more_.

The high pitched _bing! _of the elevator bell broke their spell, prompting Booth into motion. Like a man on a mission, he wordlessly tugged her into the hallway, towards their destination.

**Postscript A/N **

**Awww I love Mickey and Jean! They are such a fun couple to write. **

**I hope you enjoyed their dinner double-date. :) **

**Thank you all for your continued support and reviews! When I hear from you all, it's like food for my soul and fuel for the JazzyMuse. I truly appreciate you. **

**For any of you who celebrate Easter, I wish you a Happy Easter weekend!**

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy **


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N My dear readers, thank you all so much for your patience. **

**The task of helping to care for parents after they were discharged from the hospital for two separate reasons has been, to say the least, daunting. We live 90 minutes from my folks, so even just getting up to their place and back takes time. Complicating the matter has been a 50-hour-a-week job and the fact that I work an hour in the opposite direction of my parents' house… I'm not complaining, because I know that if I ever needed help, there are no others I could better count on than my parents, I'm just explaining why I've been off the radar for a while. **

**I wanted to post this chapter with a disclaimer. My outline and intention for this chapter is actually for a much lengthier account of what our favorite duo would be up to after their night out on the town with Mickey and Jeannie. What I'm posting, however, is only a partial glimpse further into their evening… Translation: this isn't the end of their night. But I wanted to post what I had for a couple of reasons. The first and foremost reason is to say THANK YOU to everyone who has been so kind in sending me messages on PMs through this site and on Twitter, not only letting me know you're enjoying the fic so far (and in some cases **_**im**_**patiently waiting for more - lol), but also offering support, knowing I've been facing some challenges. My second driving force is a bit more of a selfish reason… I needed to feel that distinct cathartic cleanse that I'm left with when I write, and, given my current state of mind, I need the pick-me-ups of feedback, reminding me that there is still interest in my little ficlet here…. Told'ya - selfish. **

**At any rate, I hope you enjoy what I've got here so far, and I hope you forgive me that I don't take you clear through to the following morning. BUT I plan to do that on my next chapter…. HONEST! **

**The true disclaimer is that I don't own Bones… If I did…. Well…. I think you know that if I owned this lovely little franchise, that they would've been together WAY BACK IN SEASON ONE and we would have moved to cable so there would be a shite-load more sexiness….. **

Entering Booth's room directly before of him, Brennan tried to calm her racing heart as he clicked the deadbolt closed. She moved to the desk and placed her purse on top, watching him in the mirror with wide eyes and breathless anticipation. She saw his broad shoulders rise and fall with a sharp intake of breath before he turned to face her, and Brennan felt frozen in place, unable to move, even when she commanded her body to do so. The scientist remained silent, subconsciously noting that she was inexplicably _less _nervous using the mirror as a communication conduit in case he unexpectedly changed his mind about wanting her… She felt more confident that she'd be able to handle his rejection if she wasn't actually looking _directly _into the bottomless, ebony eyes that haunted her dreams regularly.

Closing the distance between them, Booth brought his wide hands up and palmed her upper biceps from behind, meeting her wide-eyed gaze in their reflection. He felt a shiver flow through her as his body heat closed in and he briefly let his eyes sweep the lovely porcelain canvas of her back before drawing closer.

"Bones," his voice was rough, husky with obvious desire, and his calloused thumbs swept across the skin just below her cap sleeves as his dark eyes memorized her every reaction. "There's no turning back if we do this…"

"I know." She tilted her head and smiled softly, leaning back gently against his chest. "Do you want to turn back?"

With a crooked smirk peeking from the corner of his mouth, he studied her lips before looking into back into her soul-swallowing blues. "I'm in too deep to _ever _go back…" His strong, confident hands slid down her arms until they reached her hands and he circled her waist, bringing all four hands to rest against her belly. "But I need to be absolutely certain, Bones, that you're not having any doubts… We _both_ need to be all-in… No second thoughts, no regrets."

"I'm done running, Booth. I'm not scared anymore." She couldn't contain the happy feelings coursing through her veins, and she tightened her fingers around his. "I trust you completely, Booth. I trust _us…_"

Never breaking their eye contact, the agent leaned in and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her neck, humming in approval of her admission. Before letting himself get carried away, Booth loosened his hands and reached out to the desk, grabbing her clutch purse. "Gimme this," he grinned and opened it without permission.

"What are you looking for…" Her brow wrinkled at his action and she tried to see what he was doing.

"This," he pulled her cell phone from the bag and immediately turned the power off. "No calls tonight," he winked and reached into his own pocket, extracting his mobile and doing the same before depositing both phones beside her bag onto the desk. When he saw her nod of approval fail to hide a nervous smile, he palmed her hips and pulled her closer, pressing his hard chest against the soft arch of her back. He brought his cheek to her temple and waited for her to once again meet his eyes. When she did, they smiled in unison; a simple recognition from each of them that they were ready.

He slid his hands from her hips to her waist and around to her belly again, keeping her back flush against his chest, and raked his eyes across her reflection unapologetically. "Look how pretty you are…"

"Booth," she tilted her head and whined slightly.

He chuckled quietly and moved his hands from where they rested, dragging them along the smooth material of the dress. "And this dress…" His neck arched so he could look down at her bare back, licking his lips subconsciously as he grunted an unintelligible syllable. One wide hand held fast to her waist while the other trailed across her smooth shoulder blades. "I could barely keep my mind on the conversations tonight, Bones… I just wanted to touch you… I didn't want to _stop _touching you..."

Brennan shivered involuntarily, goosebumps erupting in direct reaction to the blazing trail of fire his fingers left behind as they traced nonsensical designs. She had noticed throughout the evening that whenever Booth had the opportunity, he was resting his palm against her, or touching her shoulders, or her back, or her arm… She had always known Booth to be a tactile person, but until she felt those masculine, calloused fingers on parts of her body that had, until that week, ultimately been off-limits to him, she never realized how electrifying it would be. When her partner proceeded to sweep her hair over one shoulder, so he could have better access to the exposed skin, she couldn't stop her breath from increasing in anticipation of what he might do…

Unable to form a coherent sentence, the normally-loquacious novelist opted to remain silent and motionless, following his carefully measured actions with her eyes while her imagination was flooded with a multitude of possibilities. She watched as his ebony gaze seemed to take in everything visible to him - every freckle, scar and nuance of her porcelain skin. While Temperance Brennan had never been shy or self-conscious of her appearance, she felt wonderfully exposed to her partner, even while still fully clothed… There was something about the way he looked at her, an expression that had, for years, always seemed to wash over his handsome features whenever he studied her, that made the scientist feel overwhelmingly naked, metaphorically speaking. And while some people may have been unnerved by the raw, tightly-coiled power his expression held, Brennan felt a flutter of undeniable excitement rack her body.

Booth's mouth watered for more of her kisses, nearly driving him from his current focus. The itch in his fingertips, however, was stronger, and he simply trailed the calloused pads across the silky surface at his disposal. "Everybody was looking at you tonight…" He grinned as his eyes flickered up to meet her's before moving back to the graceful curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. "People stopped their conversations and looked at you when we walked into the room… _And _when we were dancing…" Oddly enough, Booth realized that he hadn't felt even a twinge of jealously when they were out with his friends earlier in the evening, despite the many pairs of eyes he knew had been admiring his date. "I was so proud to be at your side, Bones… I felt like a million bucks." He grinned inwardly, waiting for her retort about the sensory abilities of inanimate money or, perhaps, how highly improbable it was that a million male deer would experience a similar sensation simultaneously. When she said nothing, he raised his attention again, eyeing her from beneath his heavy brow. Her eyes were closed and her lips curled gently at the corners as he tickled the bare skin of her shoulder blades.

Brennan listened to the rich timbre of her partner's voice - a sound that, long ago, became her favorite salve, unfailingly soothing her at the end of a long day or after a particularly difficult case or nightmare. She never hesitated to call Booth when she needed to be calmed, or as Angela had once put it, whenever she needed to be 'talked down from the ledge.' There was a certain quality to the tempo of his speech, the way his pitch dipped and peaked depending on the topic of discussion, that never failed to connect with the scientist on a deeper level than merely the words that he chose to use. In an instant, she was mentally transported back to the time standing outside the Royal Diner, when he fingered her chin gently and told her there was more than one type of family, and her heart fluttered in response to the truth of how perfectly her partner understood who she was, and, perhaps more importantly, where she started, before becoming a world-renowned forensic anthropologist and New York Times best-selling author. She opened her eyes just in time to catch his warm chocolate gaze studying her.

When Brennan smiled at his reflection, Booth craned his neck and pressed a soft kiss to the skin just between her neck and shoulder, just at the edge of the soft, shimmery gray material of her dress. "Stay with me tonight, Bones…" He breathed against her skin as he parted his lips to drop a warm, open-mouthed kiss, causing his partner's shoulders to shudder involuntarily.

"Yes." Her reply was soft, a whisper that spoke volumes in the otherwise quiet room. Brennan had admitted to herself, back in Atlantic City, that she had thoroughly enjoyed waking up beside her partner and, despite the fact that she tended to prefer the welcome solitude of her life, she knew this man could enrich her existence more than she'd ever imagined. Unlike the many other men she had all-too-eagerly escorted out of her apartment after satisfying a biological urge, or those from whose beds she slipped quietly after they'd fallen asleep, she had no problems imagining herself waking every morning wrapped in a Boothy cocoon of warmth. The scientist let her head fall to the side as Booth's mouth continued to move along the smooth surface of her neck until he reached her ear, where he hummed quietly and thanked her as he pulled her lobe between his lips softly.

Booth's wide hands palmed her hips and slowly started trailing up the sides of her dress. When she reached her hands up over her shoulders so she could grab his neck, his dark eyes flashed up at the mirror, where their reflection was enough to fuel months of fantasies. Stifling a groan, he slowed his assault of her neck, while his eyes took in the delicious scene before him.

Brennan's eyes were closed and her head was tilted back against his shoulder. Her arms, elegant and strong, were looped up and backwards, behind his head so she could hold him close. When his calloused fingertips finally located the unmistakable seam of a zipper panel along her left side, he slid his right hand around, splaying it possessively across her tummy and started tugging the dainty zipper tongue downward.

When Booth's warm kisses stopped completely, and Brennan felt his left hand fiddling with her zipper closure, she slowly opened her eyes, only to find him watching her silently, his dark eyes bottomless, black as coal. She raised her head and met his gaze with unwavering trust as the interlocked teeth slowly parted, allowing her dress to become loose enough to remove. Once his thick fingers reached the base hem, just below her left hip, she turned in his arms, wanting to be face to face rather than separated by a reflection, no longer afraid of a possible rejection from her partner.

They were silent, almost in awe of each other and their impending situation. The only sounds drifting through the room were quiet breaths as the partners studied one another. Brennan's mind raced to memorize everything at once, her fingers telling one story while her skillful observations told another, though much of his body, she already knew, despite their lack of intimacy up until that point. Pale blue eyes expertly studied the sharp, masculine features of the handsome man standing so close. She could see the evidence of a broken nose, long past and clearly well set by the Army surgeon who'd been charged with Booth's recovery after his first experience as a prisoner of war. Her hands moved slowly across his shoulders, beneath his suit jacket, sliding in tandem from his neck outward, and she noticed the infinitesimal degree of elevation difference. To most people, the difference would have been imperceptible, but to the anthropologist, nothing about his stature slipped by unnoticed. She knew the agonizing history behind his distinct and recognizable posture, a silhouette she had no doubts she'd instantly know at a hundred yards or more, even in the worst lighting. During his second imprisonment as an Army Ranger, he'd been beaten severely, repeatedly along his back and ribs, causing permanent damage to his spine. Beneath his perfectly pressed Oxford and undershirt, she knew the telltale scars his torso bore; the marks of a battered childhood, the proof of a brave soldier and the stories of a successful and active agent were scrawled across his smooth olive skin. She knew them all by heart… A select few haunted her nightmares, or at least the events leading up to the damages were unforgettable... She had been witness to far too many of his injuries, some of which should've been her own, but her partner had protected her from falling victim in those cases.

Watching Brennan's roving eyes and enjoying the gentle pressure of her fingers as she mapped his shoulders, Booth let his own dark gaze travel across the pale surface of her creamy skin. The agent palmed his partner's hips, his grip flexing as his thumbs swept mindlessly up and down against the soft material beneath his touch, releasing his purchase on her body only long enough to let the jacket fall to the floor as she pushed it from his shoulders. His focus lingered on the perfect combination of green, blue and silver specks in her eyes, the pale freckles that had made their presence known only since she'd spent time in the sun, and the pretty pink flush that filled her cheeks as she studied him in return.

For years, Booth had been drawn to her and continued to vehemently deny himself the possibility of ever being with her. Recently, however, despite having been turned down and subsequently fleeing to opposite ends of the world, he finally started to allow himself to imagine the potential of what they could truly become together. Especially over the past few weeks, as he was slowly opening himself back up to the notion of a relationship, and as he witnessed Brennan's ever-evolving acceptance of his presence in her life as more than a partner, he was feeling confident that things were on the right path. Sliding his right hand from her hip to the small of her back, he pulled her closer, altering his own stance in subconscious compromise of their height difference, he craned his neck. When Brennan's blues darted up, their gazes locked and he smiled, closing that final distance separating them.

Their kiss was soft and sure, not frantic as it had been in the elevator, as if both partners recognized the monumental milestone they were about to cross, and they wanted to savor the moment. She slid her hands from his biceps, where she had been silently memorizing the play of his muscles beneath her fingertips, back up to his neck so she could loop her arms around his shoulders. Booth swallowed her gentle moan, growling in response to the soft curves that were pressing up against his hard body. He could feel their combined energy surging through his body as the kiss deepened and his left arm finally moved, circling her back so his hand settled between her shoulder blades, splaying wide in a possessive hold.

Brennan pressed up on her tip toes, allowing her partner to manipulate her body until she could feel the hard, firm planes of his body pressed flush against her wherever they touched. Her mind reeled as the familiar and now-welcome fluttering inside her abdomen erupted into a frenzy of activity. Her entire body was simply vibrating, unable to control waves of anticipation rolling through her as years of built-up fear and anxiety were peeled away like layers of an onion. She grasped at his lips, tugging and suckling, getting metaphorically lost in his taste, and relishing the feeling of his responsive nips. When he rocked his hips forward while holding her firmly, she became acutely aware of his desire for her, as it pressed into her lower abdomen without apology. Tracing her fingers along the straight line of his hair, she thrust her hips back in reaction to his blatant desire, hoping to make her own longing for him known.

Their hands wandered, their lips nipped and they swallowed one another's moans. Dropping back down so she was no longer standing on her toes, Brennan looked up at her partner, trying to catch her breath. She brought her hands around to his jaw and cupped his face as their eyes skimmed over each other's features.

"Booth," her voice was husky and still breathless. He didn't respond, but she knew he was listening as his dark irises focused on her lips before moving up to meet her blues. She felt the corners of her mouth turn upward involuntarily. Brennan knew that her partner deserved a definitive response to his official request the prior evening, even though she suspected that he already understood her feelings. Tilting her head to the side with a soft smile, she traced his chin with her thumb, the very tip of her phalange catching his lower lip in the process. "You asked me a question last night…"

Booth's nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. A wave of uncertain anxiety battled with the evidence that he already had, telling him that they were both ready. But history had proven countless times that his partner was unpredictable, and the many unforeseeable decisions that Booth had witnessed Brennan make over the years caused his throat to close up. Flexing his fingers, he nodded slightly. "Mm-hmm."

Brennan's smile grew and she pressed up again, holding his face in her hands as she kissed him before speaking against his masculine lips. "I want this, too, Booth. I want all of it."

That was the confirmation Booth wanted; it was the confession he'd been hoping to hear fall from her lips… and _finally _it'd happened. He brought his hands up to her jaw, cradling her in mirror image to her hands, and he kissed her. It started out as a gentle, tender kiss of promise and love, but quickly turned heated and urgent. He looped his thumb around to the front of her chin and nudged it, essentially forcing Brennan to open her mouth wider, allowing him deeper access. He growled as his tongue thrust further into her warmth, and she received him eagerly.

Sliding his hands down to her shoulders, Booth slipped his fingers beneath the capped sleeves that were still holding her dress in place. Since he'd unzipped the delicate zipper already, it was an easy task to simply push the pliable material, letting it fall from her shoulders until it rested in the crooks of her elbows, after she had moved her hands to wrap around his torso once she had deftly shed him of his vest. Moving his attention from her lips, he dragged his mouth along her jaw as his calloused hands made a journey further down her back where they finally came to flex against the upper swell of her bottom. With a hungry growl, Booth pulled her even closer to his body, until he was absolutely certain a she could feel the effect she'd been having on him. Gliding his teeth down the sweet, silky skin of her jaw and neck, he nipped her bare shoulder before soothing the gentle sting with his tongue. He was intoxicated, and it wasn't just the alcohol he'd enjoyed throughout the evening. He was drunk with desire for her - for his partner and best friend, and for the woman who would shortly become his lover.

Brennan's body strained to be even closer, although she couldn't have been any closer to her partner unless they were actually sharing the same epidermis. But she wanted more; she wanted _everything_, and the urge hit her with such force that her mind couldn't think straight, she only knew that they were making the right decision in crossing the blasted line that had kept them apart for too long. When she felt Booth's hands move to her arms, she knew what he was trying to do, and allowed him to maneuver her until the dress could fall from her body completely. As the soft silver/gray material landed on the floor with a soft whisper, pooling around her feet, she felt her partner's sharp intake of breath.

Booth's ebony gaze moved down her body as the dark dress joined his discarded jacket and vest. The air was sucked from his lungs as his fingertips moved up her arms, from her wrists to her elbows before making the tiny leap to her waist. His long fingers spanned her waist as his eyes met hers once again. He sucked a breath and felt his lips curl at the corners, a gesture that was returned nervously as her mouth turned upward as well, almost in question. He brought one finger up to her collarbone, following it with his eyes, as he dragged it lightly along the bone until he reached the soft skin at the apex of the hollow of her throat. Pausing his motion, his dark gaze swept down her nearly-bare body once more in silent awe. When he saw her shiver, he met her limpid eyes once more.

"You're beautiful, Bones," he craned his neck and spoke against her lips. "Gorgeous." He felt her deft fingers tugging at his tie and he pressed a kiss to her mouth, sucking her bottom lip between his as he licked it slowly. As she continued manipulating his clothing, finally loosening the tie and starting to unbutton his shirt, he pulled back a little bit, smirking. "I gotta admit, though… I am a little confused by your magic bra, Bones…" He ran his hand up her spine, from the top of her pale blue lace panties up to her shoulders, not finding a back band for the strapless bra.

She chuckled while focusing intently on his chest as it (_finally_!) slowly came into view. "It's hardly magic, Booth…" Licking her lips in anticipation of running her hands across his bare chest, she maintained her attention on his smooth, olive skin as she started to peel away his shirt.

Dragging his fingers up her sides, he brought one hand between their bodies and traced the upper swells of her breasts that teased him cruelly from within the security of the blue lacy cups that matched her panties. "Well, there are no shoulder straps, no back strap… And yet," he playfully tucked his finger into the cleavage on display, finally getting her attention so she looked up at him, "it stays in place…" He cocked an eyebrow. "Seems magical to me…"

Brennan but her lower lip and felt herself blush. "It's a specialty bra, Booth… It's designed for backless dresses." She let go of the grip she had on his shirt collar and grasped the sides of the self-adhesive bra. "There is special tape that keeps it in place," she moved her eyes down to her own torso, taking care to grasp the pull-tabs correctly. "It feels a little like removing a bandaid when I remove them," she said distractedly, "but it's better than the alternative of going bra-less…"

"Oh, I dunno," Booth's breath hitched as she pulled the first adhesive from her side. "Going without a bra wouldn't be all _that _terrible…" He, of course, was thinking selfishly as his eyes remained rapt with anticipation.

She grinned, knowing full well that her alpha-agent would metaphorically blow a gasket if she went out in public without the proper support. Tugging the final strip securing her bra in place, she held the undergarment against her body while she looked back up at Booth, waiting to see what he would do. She watched as his nostrils flared in masculine hunger and, without a word, his hands reached forward, spanning her ribcage as he pulled her to him, crushing her hands between their bodies as he crashed against her lips, barely making eye contact when he did. As they kissed, battling for dominance they way one would expect from two such strong personalities, he moved his hands up until he wrapped them around her arms, just below her bent elbows.

Brennan's eyes fluttered open when her partner eased out of their kiss and she watched as his smoldering chocolates searched her face. She felt her brow wrinkle, wondering what her partner was thinking about. She didn't have to wait long to find out as his hands moved further along her arms, towards her wrists.

"Can I," his voice was husky and low, "y'know...do that?" The side of his lips curled up impishly as a single thick finger slipped beneath the material of her magic-bra as his gaze dropped to the teasingly deep cleavage literally right at his fingertips. He waited for her consent, though, looking back into her eyes as they shared several heavy breaths.

Shifting her attention from where they had been intensely focused on her partner's lips, Brennan looked up and, in silent assent to his unsurprising request, she simply lowered the hand that had been holding the garment in place. When Booth craned his head, she accepted his kiss without hesitation, opening her lips to his gentle probe. As the heat of their kiss quickly escalated, Brennan became acutely aware of the gentle tug of the lacy material peeling away from her body. A wide, calloused palm pressed against one breast and she pulled out of the kiss, suddenly feeling the need for oxygen. When her head tilted back and she inhaled sharply, Booth's mouth immediately latched onto her throat. Brennan moaned softly. The mind-numbing combination of the assault of his lips on her neck, the firm hold that his left hand maintained on the small of her back and his other measuring the weight of her breast, effectively rendered Brennan into metaphorical pudding.

Booth's body thrummed with energy. He wanted to be impossibly close to her, to touch her whole body all at once and to taste every inch of her skin. His fingers skimmed the soft flesh of her breast and his thumb swept across her puckered nipple, drawing a hungry whimper from his partner's throat. Selfishly, he wanted to hear it again, so his thumb made a second sweep in the opposite direction, and he wasn't disappointed. Humming against her neck, he turned their bodies until she was backed against the bed and he craned his neck so he could look at her.

Brennan felt uncharacteristically nervous when she realized that Booth was finally going to see her. She knew that she was beautiful, she was unapologetic about her immodesty on most days. But in that moment, a wave of anxiety washed over her body and she swallowed thickly. Her hands had been gripping Booth's biceps, and without conscious thought, they started to pull in towards her own body, as if preparing to protect herself... but _what _she was protecting herself again, she had no immediate thought.

Booth noted the sudden and unexpected hesitation in her movements and he picked up on her nervousness. While every masculine fiber in his body was screaming at him to consummate their impending union, he searched her face, bringing his hands up to palm her cheeks until she looked up and met his gaze. When he finally locked her pale blues, he smiled warmly, wanting her to stop worrying unnecessarily.

"Bones," one side of his lips curled softly. "You're amazing," he whispered, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. He actually hadn't seen very much of her body since peeling the clothing away, but he already knew that she'd be perfect.

Feeling foolish at her unfounded nervousness, she mentally admonished herself; she knew she could trust Booth completely. "I'm sorry," she replied with a newfound shyness. "I just felt….suddenly…nervous."

Searching her face, Booth tried to judge her mindset. "We don't have to do this yet, Bones… There's no rush, baby."

"No, Booth. I want this," she lowered her hands from where they were shielding herself, and she grabbed the belt-loops at his sides. "I _do _want this." A smile curled her lips. "And I have no doubt you want this, too… You said so yourself."

He chuckled at her reasoning. "Yeah, I did say it. And _of course_ I want it... But I want to make sure you're ready," his hands moved down to her waist, pulling her against him while never breaking the eye contact they'd established. "We have all the time in the world…"

Brennan had been with more men than she now wished to think about, but never in all her adulthood had she experienced the patience and truth that she was witnessing with Booth. "We've waited long enough, Booth," her sultry voice sounded seductive even to her own ears. Her fingers let go of his waist and moved to his shirt, continuing where she'd left off shortly before, unbuttoning the tiny opalescent discs. "I was not experiencing anxiety at the notion of moving our relationship forward," she explained, knowing she had his complete attention as she proceeded to push the shirt from his pleasantly symmetrical acromion. Once the clothing had crumpled to the floor, she raised her wide, pale eyes back up to Booth's darker gaze. "I was, instead, feeling slightly apprehensive that you might look at me...and only see my scars…" In the back of her mind, she acknowledged that she'd never once cared about what another lover may have thought when seeing the numerous scars her body bore. While the _scientist_-within had accumulated an array of empirical evidence of her partner's devotion, and that evidence was inarguably weighted heavily against any sort of rejection, the _woman_-within possessed the same self-image doubts that most women did...not matter how well she typically kept those concerns hidden.

"When I look at you, Bones," Booth cradled her jaw and kissed her tenderly. "I see the gorgeous, brilliant," he spoke quietly against her lips, "warm woman who swept me off my feet years ago…" He rubbed his nose against hers lovingly. "You made me fall in love with _you_, Bones. _All _of you…"

She kissed him in response to his sheer honesty, the urgency to taste him and feel his body crushed against hers was suddenly renewed with enthusiasm. As she felt herself falling backwards towards the mattress, the scientist finally stopped analysing their situation and worrying about potential social catastrophes or rejections, and the woman-within simply trusted her partner to catch her, keep her safe and teach her everything she'd been dreaming of since realizing just how much Booth meant to her.

**Postscript A/N **

**I hope you all forgive me for stopping there… Please don't throw tomatoes, eat them instead… I just know that with my upcoming schedule, if I held off any longer, we'd be looking at another couple weeks before posting anything at all, and I didn't want to make you all wait any longer for an update. **

**I hope all is well with you and yours. **

**peace and love, my friends, **

**~jazzy **


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N. Hello, my friends. **

**I hope you forgive my delay; my time is still shared between my own daily life and helping my folks. Thank you all for your kind words of encouragement. I love you all. **

**Disclaimer. Nope, I haven't bought the rights to Bones yet… I own nothing but this little tale. **

As was the case the previous morning, Brennan's eyes fluttered open, in response to _what_, she didn't immediately know, and it took a few moments to orient herself as to her whereabouts. The pale, barely-there glimmer of moonlight filtering through the narrow slit in the curtains that failed to cover the sliding door served as a reminder to her location and confirmed it was still long before dawn. The fog of sleep was heavy and she let her eyelids fall closed again, not yet ready stir from her pleasant dreams. The sleepy scientist inhaled slowly, and with startling realization, her eyes flew open once more.

That smell… She _knew _that smell… It was incomparable, and she'd know it _anywhere…_. Nothing in the world that smelled like Booth and she buried her face into the pillow. It was the scent of comfort, and of safety, and of trust, even though her rational, _scientific_ mind lectured her that the metaphors were preposterous… 'Comfort,' 'safety,' and 'trust' were _feelings_, _emotions_, _sensations_, and as such, they did not possess the requisite tangibility to encompass a specific odor. And yet, a smile tugged the corners of her lips, because her partner's cologne, after shave and clean, manly scent that filled her olfactory receptors _definitely _translated to all of those feelings… and _so _much more. It was, quite simply, _Boothy_.

In the brief seconds that it took her sluggish brain to register where she was and why she was completely surrounded by his intoxicating aroma, she became acutely aware of the delicious aches in her body that told the tale of a long night of slow, wonderful intimacy. The sounds of a toilet flushing and sink spigot engaging instantly explained to Brennan the reason she was awake before the sun was even close to rising; Booth must have left the warmth of their bed to use the bathroom, disturbing her slumber. It was this knowledge that drew her subconscious attention to the chill settling quickly against the skin of her previously warm back...she had lost Booth's ever-present body heat when he slipped from beneath the sheets.

Scenes flashed through Brennan's mind - memories of the previous night, each one like a stop-motion picture in bright, vivid color, inexplicably warming her body from the inside... Visions of Booth's wide, masculine body looming over hers as he lowered himself to his elbows, cradling her head tenderly between his wide palms… His dark irises focusing intently on her pale blues, stealing the air from her lungs and she felt like he was looking straight into her _metaphorical _soul… The way he trembled when he _finally _pressed into her, his tightly coiled power a hairsbreadth away from snapping...

She could still feel the warmth of smooth skin covering tight muscles beneath her hands as they swept from his broad, symmetrical acromia down to the fossae lumbales laterales just superior to his gluteal cleft… The anthropologist sighed happily… She had always, in secret, been a metaphorical sucker for a man's back dimples, and thanks to Booth's often-vigorous workouts, his Venusian Dimples were teasingly well-defined, practically causing her mouth to water... And when his powerful frame rose above her, cradled in the void of her parted thighs as he thrust into her soft heat repeatedly, pushing her over the brink multiple times before allowing himself to finally fall, her thumb nails rimmed his the sagittally symmetrical indentations and her fingers flexed against the firm upper swell of his ass, drawing a deep, animalistic growl from his throat while his body went rigid, emptying himself with a hoarse, unintelligible grunt. The corners of her mouth curled softly at the memory of the way his defined abdominal muscles rippled beneath her roving fingers when she straddled him from above, rolling her hips while he was buried deep inside her, forcing unrecognizable syllables to drip from her tongue. Her skin burned in the many places where his wide, powerful hands had gripped her during the throes of passion, and she was certain that somewhere on her body, his sheer strength would have left marks on her...and inwardly, she was glad for it.

Her hand, moving of its own volition, swept down her torso, settling low on her belly as a wave of familiar flutters erupted in response to her reflections. Her fingers danced across the relaxed, soft curve of her tummy and she remembered the way Booth's lips felt when he kissed his way down her body, and the tender attention he paid to the scars that had plagued her self-image for years. For most of her early adult years, she had focused, _almost obsessively_, on finding organic and topical creams and solutions for the countless scars and unattractive marks that had been left behind from unforgettable foster families. They were painful reminders that her family, the people she had once depended on to protect and love her, had abandoned her to the _careless _care of the less-than-esteemed Department of Child Services... But Booth's selfless ministrations and heartfelt promises soothed her anguishing memories and unwarranted self-conscious awareness. Her partner had whispered softly against her heated skin, gently kissing each imperfection, vowing that he would _never _let anyone hurt her again, and that she was the strongest woman he knew, among so many other compliments… He had, in essence, worshipped her body like no one else had ever done. And, back in the present, tears of relief threatened to break free as she waited patiently for her partner to rejoin her in bed.

B/B/B/B

Booth did _not _want to get up. He was _so _comfortable, spooned up behind his partner, with her bottom nestled perfectly against his crotch; it was as if divine intervention had created them to fit together in this one position... But then he remembered, with a sleepy, satisfied grin, all of the _other _positions for which their bodies had _also_ been expertly matched... The way her long legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him impossibly close… The way his palms were, without question, the perfect size for holding her breasts… Even the way her mouth…

His body's need to use the bathroom refused to be denied since pulling him from a deeply sated slumber, and suddenly shoved every other thought from his mind. He remained determinedly motionless, relishing one more moment against her warm body, the sweet scent of her perfume still prominent in his nose, before begrudgingly giving into the unwelcome urge. As his bladder started to issue not-so-subtle threats to his brain, the agent forced himself to gently pull away from the woman in his arms. Carefully, _ever so slowly, _he slid his arm from beneath her neck and released the possessive hold that his wide hand held over the slight, feminine curve of her belly. Sliding silently from the bed, he quickly strode to the bathroom focused on taking care of business so he could hurry back to the all-encompassing warmth of Brennan's body.

Keeping the light off, Booth closed the door so there was less chance of disturbing Brennan. By the glow of the emergency night light, he looked at his shadowed silhouette, momentarily distracted by the true reason he was standing in the small, tiled room. His mind instantly flashed back to the previous couple hours, only shortly passed. He could still see how beautiful she looked surging beneath his body, he could still taste the distinct and familiar flavor of her kisses and feel the searing sensations left behind by her expert fingers as they mapped the contours of his body, inevitably learning more about him with her simple touches than any previous lover had ever known.

His body quickly reminding him of his purpose, he turned away from the mirror. Absently, he took care of the urgent business at hand while he wrapped his mind around the truth of their new reality.

When he had, at last, lowered her to the center of his mattress, her nearly-naked body gloriously spread out for him, Booth had forgotten how to breathe. She was bare except for the scant pair of panties taunting him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Booth wondered to what purpose the flimsy scrap of material actually served, other than to set his blood boiling, but just as quickly the thought evaporated as his hungry eyes drank in the expanse of creamy, soft curves... Immediately, calloused fingers trailed the surface of her silky skin as his lips made a journey of their own, learning the sweet flavor of her throat before moving lower.

_Bones_, his voice sounded gravelly as he hummed against her body, his volume low and seductive. _You're so fucking gorgeous_…

Her hands flew down to his shoulders, clawing at their breadth in primal need. Involuntarily, her hips started moving against his body, the lace from her sheer panties causing a delicious friction, forcing a throaty whimper from her chest. When his lips latched onto one pebbled nipple, suckling hard, her fingers moved and speared into his thick, spiky hair, holding him in place. He growled in response when, courtesy of her eager movements, Booth could feel the moist heat radiating from her core against his torso.

Inhaling sharply, Booth came back to the present, rolling his eyes at his own body when he looked down and realized he was already a half-mast. He couldn't even _think_ about the warmth that had enveloped him when he finally pressed inside her pliant body without a physical reaction to the memory... It was nearly two o'clock in the morning...he needed to try to get some sleep… and Brennan needed her sleep… _But, oh God_, he thought, _her soft heat, her eagerness...her trust is just so damn addicting.._.

Giving himself a final shake, he flushed the toilet and turned back to the sink, fisting a washcloth in the process and soaking it with cool water. After a harsh scrub of his face and neck, he dropped the towel back to the counter and eyed himself once again. Along his shoulders, he could see, even in the dark, the marks left behind by her blunt fingernails… He couldn't stop the slight curl of his lips, knowing that she, too, would find physical evidence of his discoveries on her own body. He had tried to stop himself from marking her, from claiming her as his, but his dominant, alpha-male genetics ignored the logical part of his brain that ultimately failed to maintain control. Once his mouth had latched onto her neck, there was no pulling back until he was certain there would be proof… She had recognized it at the time and moaned in acquiescence, which only served to push him harder. Perhaps his only saving grace would be that he had been lucid enough to strategically place his mark where she could cover it by wearing her hair down or masking it with foundation… Clearing his throat with a masculine chuckle, he stretched his arms, cracked his neck and twisted his back before quietly opening the door that would allow him to re-enter the room.

When his eyes focused on the large, King-sized bed, Booth's heart stopped, and he felt a swell of panic course through his body. The moonlight was bright enough, and the angle direct enough, that he could clearly see Brennan was not where she had been when he slipped from their sheets. Forcing himself to breathe again, Booth's innate knowledge of his partner crept to the forefront of his mind.

_She doesn't like sharing a bed with lovers_, he reminded himself. This was not news… She had always made it a point of expressing her extreme displeasure of post-coital cuddling or, as she had once described it, _the unnecessary, clinging contact in which so many people participate after engaging in intercourse_… He had hoped, however, that she would feel differently with them… _With him_… Forcing his feet to move, he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

_Apparently I was grossly mistaken_, his inner voice lectured himself. _It's too much, too soon… I can't expect her to change her habits overnight_… He argued with himself, though, that she had slept in his arms before… Only weeks before, he had held her all night long, in a swanky hotel suite on the Atlantic City Boardwalk, and she didn't pull away once… _But_ that was before they'd done _it_… before they finally consummated their personal relationship…

Consciously putting one foot in front of the other, he approached the open door adjoining their two spaces, fully expecting to see her sprawled out in her own bed. When his head poked into the darkened room, however, she was not on the bed; nor was she in the chair or on her balcony. Swiveling his attention, he breathed a brief sigh of relief at seeing the telltale proof that, like he had done, she simply made a trip to the bathroom, as the pale light shone from beneath the closed door. Unsure of her actual plans, now that she was up and about, Booth stalled for just a moment before deciding to go back into his room. He sat on the edge of the bed trying to ignore the flashes of doubt running through his mind. Hearing movement coming from Brennan's room, Booth's eyes moved to the still-darkened doorway and a genuine smile tugged at his lips.

Temperance Brennan was an elegant woman when dressed to the nines for a formal gathering, she was a hard-working woman when elbow deep in a crime scene without complaint, and she was a brilliant, giving woman when lecturing students about her areas of expertise. But in the dark hours of this monumental morning, as she ambled back into Booth's hotel room, donning only his white Oxford shirt that had been hastily buttoned unevenly, she was simply adorable. Her hair, so recently fixed with perfection for their evening out, was disheveled in such a way that anyone looking at her would've instantly known that she'd had someone else's fingers running through it… Her makeup, having been expertly applied just before their date, told a tale of passion. Booth tilted his head and admired her, chuckling at the way she was blinking, obviously trying to fight against the blindness that inflicted her blues after going from the bright light of the bathroom back into the darkness. She tried to smile at him while navigating her way back over to the bed, and accepted his outstretched hand, coming to stand between his parted knees.

She hummed as his strong arms circled her thighs, pulling her body to his until he could press a gentle kiss against her stomach.

"Hey, Bones" he whispered softly. "Sorry...I didn't mean to wake you." He nosed the gaping sides of his shirt aside until he could rest his cheek against the soft flesh of her tummy.

"It's ok," her volume was just as low, maintaining the sweet serenity that surrounded them. "I needed to use the restroom anyway…" Her hands spanned the wide, masculine shoulders that had, so often, carried her to safety. Admiring the way his dark skin contrasted with her own pale pigment, even in the dark shadows, she simply smiled, pleased at possessing such intimate knowledge. Running her fingers towards his neck, she felt, rather than heard, the sigh of contentment that escaped his chest.

Shifting his hands, he ran them beneath the shirt tails of the top she wore, loving how large it was on her and thinking, in a very alpha-male way, how damn sexy she looked wearing his clothes… He ran his open palms over the feminine curves of her hips and around to her bottom, cupping her boldly as he pulled her even closer. When he looked up, he smiled softly, noticing the subtle blush that was filling her cheeks and neck.

"How do you feel?" He was tentative, slightly nervous about her reaction now that she was awake. Over the years, he had watched Temperance Brennan grow and evolve, even while vehemently denying her abilities to adapt in certain situations. And although she was different in many ways from the woman he had met nearly a decade before, evidence had proven time and again that she could still revert back to her old ways, hiding behind the walls of self-preservation and safety. This simple fact set his nerves on edge, wondering how she would handle the change in their status.

Brennan heard the hesitant quality in his voice and knew that her own past actions were the reason for his vulnerability. She felt bad that, while he always stood by her and defended her occasional, _or frequent as the case may be_, social faux pas, he still understood her deep-rooted fears of commitment. _This_, however...this _progression_ in their relationship with one another, it was a welcome change, something she had been dreaming of, anticipating for longer than she allowed herself to verbalize. She smiled instead, and stroked his prominent zygomatic bone with a single finger.

"I feel good, Booth." Her smile widened. "Not at all awkward or uncomfortable…"

His grin mirrored hers, his bright teeth perfectly visible in the shadows of the early morning hours. "I'm glad, Bones. Me too… I feel amazing." He pressed another kiss to her abdomen and inhaled slowly, filling his lungs with her unique scent. "Hmmm… You smell incredible…" He nuzzled the tender skin above her belly button, eliciting an uncharacteristic giggle from his partner. Loving the sound, he did it again and was rewarded instantly. In the back of his mind, he imagined his partner lecturing him about pheromones, or chemical reactions, or other such nonsense, but in that moment, he didn't care about the science behind his attraction to her… He only wanted to experience it first hand, so he pressed his face against her womanly softness and relished in their close proximity.

Unknown to Booth, as Brennan looked down at the top of his head while he was placing countless little kisses across her torso, she was silently reciting all of those chemical reactions and scientific theories she had lived by for so many years. With a warm smile, she ran her fingers through the spiky mess of thick hair and ignored the untold hours of study, choosing, instead, to embrace the unproven notion that love was _more_ than a fleeting, ephemeral reaction to outside stimuli.

_Love was_, she quickly lectured herself, _being here, in this moment, with this man_...

Swallowing a nervous lump forming in her throat, she spoke quietly. "I've told you before, that I don't enjoy sharing a bed at night…"

Stilling his movements, Booth hoped she couldn't feel the tension that formed in his body instantly. He reminded himself that he shouldn't be surprised that she was bringing it up… He should simply let her return to her room without argument and _not _push her into something that scared her… And, if he knew the one thing that scared Temperance Brennan more than anything else, it was intimacy. She could, _and for years she did,_ easily write-off sex, as nothing more than an activity to satisfy biological urges, or, in some instances, _he could imagine her droning, unapologetic ramblings_, the necessary step in a primordial instinct that two individuals act upon in a deeply hidden subconscious effort to procreate and continue their species…

Spending the night together, however…Staying in a man's bed, or allowing a man to remain in hers, that was an i_ntimate gesture_, and she ran from intimacy the way a frightened doe ran from a hungry wolf…

He licked his lips and pulled away from her tummy; just enough so that he could look up at her without having to loosen his hold around her hips. His dark eyes sought hers, and he saw conflict battling with something unknown. He nodded twice, barely more than a head bobble, but enough that he knew that she saw his acknowledgement.

"Yeah, I know, Bones…" He took a slow breath and lowered his arms slowly, running his hands down the backs of her thighs. "I know…"

She recognized the change in his demeanor and felt instantly guilty that it was the overwhelming evidence of her past indiscretions that put the tension in his shoulders. And she saw sadness, and vulnerability, and dejection. Running her fingers from the crown of his head, where she had been spearing his hair while holding him against herself, she let the pads of her fingers follow the sharp line of his cheek.

"Well, I was… um…" she paused, struggling to swallow the sudden onslaught of anxiety. "I was wondering… Would it be an imposition if I were to stay here?" She waited for his mind to catch up with his ears, and she knew the moment he actually processed the question.

His eyes darted back up to meet hers and Booth cocked an eyebrow. "Wha-?" Grabbing her hand, he pushed to his feet, forcing her to take a half-step back in order to make room for him. He stood before her, his wide, sculpted chest brushing hers through the thin material of the shirt and his face coming so close to hers that they were sharing a breath. "What did you just ask me?"

She smiled up at him, her pale eyes sparkling in the dark. "I'd like to stay… Here," she motioned to the bed. "_With you_…" Just to make sure he understood, she emphasized further when he still failed to respond. "_Tonight_, Booth. I wish to stay with you tonight… And," she reached over and flipped the power switch of the small lamp on his bedside table, wanting to see him clearly. "Maybe tomorrow, as well," she shrugged one shoulder. "We'll see what happens…"

Cupping the nape of her neck, Booth pulled Brennan's lips up to his, covering her mouth completely. When he felt her arms snake around his neck, his empty hand looped her waist, tugging her flush against his body. Deepening their kiss, Booth pushed his tongue between her lips, experiencing zero resistance, which, in turn, made him growl in approval. Sliding his hand up her back, beneath the shirt, he followed the straight line of her spine until he reached the perfect spot between her shoulder blades, and he flexed, pulling her impossibly closer.

Tilting her head, Brennan broke their kiss in desperate need of oxygen, and silently offered her neck to Booth. Though they hadn't been together long enough for her to know all of his weaknesses, she had derived enough knowledge from their activities the previous evening to know, without a doubt, that he loved sucking on her throat. Her fingers flew over his shoulders and down his chest, her sensitive receptors transmitting information to her brain, which was translating and memorizing everything about his skin. Before she even realized it, his large hands were between their bodies, fingering open the small opalescent buttons that she had hastily fastened closed when she plucked his shirt from where it'd fallen on the floor. When she slipped from the bed to tend to her own restroom needs, she hadn't initially planned to dress. When, however, she saw the bright white, professionally starched shirt crumpled in an uncelebrated heap, she felt drawn to it. As she moved through their darkened rooms, sliding her arms into the much-too-long sleeves, she smiled happily at being, quite literally, surrounded by his familiar, clean, very _male _scent.

As she became pliant in his arms, Booth turned their bodies until her back was to the bed. Their hands explored everything at once and their mouths were fused so tightly that he momentarily wondered if they might never again be separated. _Since they were both awake_, he mused, _might as well make the most of the early hour_… without breaking their kiss, he reached up and pulled her arms from behind his neck, so that he could remove the shirt from her body completely. When she complied with the tiniest, sweetest mewl he'd ever heard, he growled quietly and pushed the now-wrinkled dress shirt from her shoulders, unwrapping her body to his wolffish vision once again.

Before Brennan could protest, she was on her back, sideways across the bed, and her partner was crawling over her prone body, kissing his way across the soft flesh of her abdomen. She giggled, surprising both of them, when the stiff growth of his nighttime stubble scraped against her waist. She heard Booth grunt in reply, apparently enjoying the fact that he discovered a new tidbit of information about his normally poised partner. When he, quite blatantly, repeated the action in effort to elicit the sounds once more, her hands flew down to his thick hair, pulling him up higher, and her legs flexed against his sides. Thankful for her years of martial arts training, and the considerable skills she had garnered from practicing with persons larger than herself, she smirked knowingly as she flipped their bodies, efficiently pressing Booth's back to the sheets as she straddled his hips.

Grinning up at her from his new position on the bottom, Booth let his hands come to settle on her hips, memorizing the degree of womanly curvature and the silkiness of her previously forbidden skin. He admired the pretty pink flush that filled her cheeks and the triumphant expression she wore. Her hair was still mussed in the sexiest of ways, her shoulders remained squared in a proud posture and she simply smiled down at him, cocking one eyebrow. He knew she was expecting him to battle against her dominant position, but he was so taken by her pure beauty that he was happy to stay like this for as long as she desired.

"You're beautiful, Bones." His words were soft, his voice husky and thick. He reached one hand up to cup her jaw and stroke his thumb over her lower lip as her challenging smirk morphed into a genuine smile, gentle and elegant. He noticed her posture shift a little as her shoulders relaxed and her head tilted at his compliment.

"Booth," she whispered his name, her emotions torn as she looked down at him, softly admonishing him for the unprompted compliment. When they had finally fallen into bed after their date, Brennan was pleasantly surprised to learn what an unselfish lover Booth was. He paid undivided attention to her preferences and desires, and she _knew _he had committed many, if not all, of her reactions to memory… the same as she had done with him. Perhaps a more impressive discovery she'd made the previous night was the fact that Booth was _definitely_ not the Puritan she had often suspected he'd be. The unmerciful teasing she'd dished out over the years, in response to his perpetual reluctance to discuss sex, or bodily reactions of _any _kind for that matter, had been completely unfounded. He was a passionate man, and _completely _alpha-male without apology, but he ensured she was well satisfied, and in turn, his actions made Brennan want to give everything to him.

She spanned her hands across his abdomen, starting at his belly button and moving outward, until her fingers curled around his waist. Her pale eyes followed the movement and she once again admired the marked difference between his tanned, olive skin against her alabaster pigment. Without raising her eyes to his, she smiled, her thumbs sweeping the across the toned muscles rippling beneath her touch.

"You know… There's no need for compliments, Booth." Her eyes flashed up towards his face, looking at him from beneath her lashes before flicking her focus back down to his chest.

Wrinkling his brow at her hesitant statement, Booth thumbed her chin so she would look at him properly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Taking a deep breath, Brennan reached up and pulled his hand away from her face, keeping it wrapped in her fingers and lowered them together. "Compliments are typically given as a precursor to sex… We've already-"

"No." He cut her off, tightening his hold on her hand and pressing up to his elbow with his free arm. "Stop right there, Bones." He didn't intend for his interruption to come out quite as harsh as it had, but nevertheless he wanted to make sure he had her attention. "I am _not_ complimenting you as a way to get into your pants. I tell you that you're beautiful because you are. Plain and simple, you're gorgeous. And you deserve to hear it, regardless of whether or not we are here," he motioned to the room, "or in the truck, or on a date, or hell, even at a crime scene… If I think you look pretty, and I suspect that I can get away with telling you without getting my ass kicked, I'm gunna say it." Forcing the tension to leave his shoulders, he dropped back down and tugged her hand so she would lay her weight against him. Once she was settled, his free hand stroked the perfect line of her spine and he continued.

"I've told you before when I think you look pretty. I've told you that since the first case together." He cocked his head to the side, looking down at where she rested her cheek against his pec. "Did you always think I was complimenting you as a ploy to lure you to my bed?"

Carefully constructing her reply before giving it, she rolled her lips between her teeth and avoided his intense gaze. "No," but even to herself, the simple answer seemed feeble. Wanting to ensure him that she hadn't suspected ulterior motives, she continued. "It's just… In my experience, men would typically pay me random compliments that later turned out to be... not so random…"

"Yeah, well," he ran his fingers through her hair and dropped his head back down to the bed. "I'm not most men, Bones. I'm your partner. I've been your friend, your admirer, and your unconventional family for years… I would've hoped you knew by now that I didn't make empty statements like those other assholes."

Finally raising her eyes, she released the hold on his hand and dislodged her arms from between their bodies, where they had been sandwiched. "My intention was not to imply that your words were insincere, Booth." She felt her cheeks blush with embarrassment. "It's just… I'm not used to such unprompted declarations when I'm with someone… Like this…"

"Well, get used to it, Baby." He smiled and cupped her hips, squeezing the soft flesh. "Cause I'm gunna tell you what's on my mind. Always." With the speed and agility of a warrior, he rolled, securing his partner beneath his wide body, her legs cradling his hips perfectly. "And right now… you wanna know the only damn thing that's on my mind…?" He lowered his mouth to her throat, sucking the sweet skin between his lips. After doting attention on her left side, he moved to give the same treatment to the right side of her neck, just below her ear, speaking against her skin. "It's making love to the gorgeous woman that I've loved for so long that I can't remember what it felt like before we met…"

Fighting the tears that were pricking the backs of her eyes, Brennan pushed from her mind, any remnants of her argument against unnecessary compliments. Grasping his thick biceps with splayed fingers, she turned her head to search for his mouth. She didn't have to look far because he was right there, capturing her lips, sucking her swollen lower lip as he rocked his hips knowingly.

Brennan gasped when he pressed into her and she spread her thighs wider, making room for his body to get as close as possible. As it was on their first time, _and the subsequent three times over the course of their previous evening_, she marveled at the way he filled her. She had been with more men than she liked to admit, now that she was realizing just how much her partner meant to her, but never had she experienced the sensation of complete fullness. It was more than just his size, although she would be remiss if she tried to convince herself that his size was inconsequential, because it was _definitely_ a contributor to her physical satisfaction… The brilliant-minded scientist multi-tasked, as only she could, on the ramifications of their actions, their words and their unquestionable commitments to each other.

"Stop thinking so hard, Baby," Booth breathed against her ear, nipping her playfully as he continued to move inside her in a perfect rhythm.

Instinctively, she defended her constantly-active mind. "I can't very well turn my brain _off_," she muttered. Before she was able to formulate a further argument, she felt a shift in Booth's pattern and he pistoned into her faster. She sputtered, attempting to put together a coherent sentence about her ability to successfully multi-task. The fact, however, that she was unable to build such a defense was lost on her as she moaned in response to the new depths he was reaching.

"Uh-huh," he grunted and found her hands, pinning them against the bed above their heads. "You stay with _me_, Bones…" He grunted through clenched teeth. "Right here." He punctuated his words with a deep, hard thrust that forced a needy whimper from her throat. His dark, predatory gaze caught her azure blues when her lids fluttered. "Look at me, Bones." It was more of an order than a request and the Agent couldn't help feeling a little cocky at his ability to render his loquacious partner speechless. "Don't close your eyes, Temperance." They were both breathing heavily, meeting each thrust in time with one another. "I wanna see you, Bones… Let go, Baby."

The new rhythm combined with the altered pressure created when he'd stretched her body by pinning her hands was quickly proving to be difficult to maintain. He could feel his grip on control slipping away as a familiar sensation started tugging at the base of his spine… He knew he was going to fall over the edge soon, but he _needed _her to shatter first. Booth had rapidly learned that his new favorite feeling was when she came apart all around him, while he was buried deep inside her core, with her inner muscles fluttering around his length. And he was _determined _to feel it again before succumbing to his own pleasure.

"Booth," she panted, wrapping her long legs around his narrow hips, keeping him close and writhing against his raw power.

"Yeah, c'mon, Baby…. Cum for me, Bones." He growled, his dark gaze boring into hers. "I wanna fuckin' _feel _you." In direct contrast with his aggressive command, he spread his fingers wide and threaded them between hers lovingly.

The tender action stole the breath from Brennan's lungs and she failed to stifle the new tears that seeped from the corners of her eyes. As the telling, welcome pressure continued to build in the pit of her stomach, somewhere in the back of the scientist's mind, _or perhaps even deep in her gut_, she knew there'd never be another man who could evoke the feelings that Booth had been pulling from her, even though they had broken the barriers mere hours ago. Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, her lids fell closed as she arched her body. Breathy gasps and quiet sighs filled the room, her moans gradually growing in volume, signalling to Booth that she was nearing the precipice.

Brennan's hungry whimpers spoke to Booth's primal side, further spurring his alpha control. Widening his knees, he gained better traction and increased both the speed and the strength behind his thrusts. Releasing one of her hands, he swept his liberated fingers down the length of her arm until he reached the outer swell of her breast. Squeezing firmly, he flicked his thumb up over her pebbled nipple, drawing a gentle whine from her throat. Booth bowed his head, his lips latching onto her sweet and salty skin while the flat of his tongue pressed against her pulse point. He growled when her newly-freed hand flew down to his head, holding him firmly in place as she used her crossed ankles at the small of his back to gain leverage in meeting his thrusts.

"Booth…." Her voice quivered in time with her body. "Please…"

"C'mon, baby," he encouraged her to let go. "I've gotcha…" He released her other hand and threaded his fingers into the soft strands of her wayward curls. Tugging her earlobe, he sucked gently then rimmed her ear with the tip of his tongue. "I love you so much, Bones…."

Brennan lost her grip on control and careened over the metaphorical ledge at his husky declaration. Her body going rigid beneath his, she squeezed her thighs, holding him tight as unintelligible syllables dripped from her lips, the only understandable mantra being Booth's name, over and over.

Booth pressed deep, stilling inside her body as she rode the waves of her climax. He clenched his jaw, barely staving off his own orgasm in favor of watching his gorgeous partner shatter. Once she started to come back to her senses, he caught her gaze and started rocking his hips. His undoing was when she brought her cool fingers up and cupped his jaw.

"Cum for me, Booth…." She bit her lower lip as he squeezed his eyes shut and once again increased the pace of his pistons. She watched the raw power in his body, her pale eyes flicked from his face to his thick neck, so perfectly male and strong... His pectoral muscles flexed as he moved and she could feel the rippling of his abdominals against her stomach. Sweeping her fingers down his back, she settled her hands just below his ribs and continued to meet his strides. Stretching up, she nipped his neck lightly, licking his skin before suckling lightly. When his finesse faltered, she knew he was mere seconds from giving her want she so desperately desired. "Make me yours, Booth," the words tumbled from her mouth without warning or forethought.

Booth took her permission and metaphorically ran with it. He pounded into her with abandon, feeding off of her encouraging murmurs and sighs. The welcome tug resurfaced with a vengeance, a direct connection from the base of his spine clear through to his loins, a blatant signal that his barely contained control was slipping away. When he heard her sultry, alto voice urge him to not hold back, he finally let go, spiraling into the abyss with a primal yawp. Dropping to his elbows, he cradled her head in the crook of his neck as he emptied himself deep inside her body, white hot light flashing behind his eyes and blinding him momentarily.

Once his large body stopped shaking and trembling, Brennan's ankles unlocked and she let her legs fall open, her hands, rubbing large circles over his sweaty back. Reluctantly, she let him pull aside, she was surprised to've found his weight upon her to be pleasant. When he scooped his arm beneath her shoulders and pulled her with him, she moved willingly, tucking into his side. Once they were settled on their pillows, their limbs entwined and fingers skipping over quickly-cooling skin, the silence was finally broken.

"Booth?" Her voice was hoarse and quiet, and she nuzzled her forehead against the side of his neck.

"Hmm?" His wide, calloused hand trailed long, slow lines up and down her back.

Brennan felt nervous, but knew her anxiety was unfounded. Spanning her long, thin fingers over the scar he'd revealed years ago as an accident where his brother had cut him, she stilled her movements. She licked her lips, ignoring her sudden thirst. "I…" She inhaled slowly, the calming effects of her partner's close proximity thankfully seeping into her body. "I hope you know how much you mean to me…"

With a smile, Booth pressed a kiss to her forehead, tightening his arm around her shoulders. "I know, Bones." He nosed her hair, relishing not only their physical closeness, but their emotional bond as well. "I love you, too, baby."

She smiled against his chest, thankful that he understood her, even though she hadn't actually uttered the words yet. She knew, without a doubt, that she loved her partner. And she trusted him more than she had ever trusted anyone… She just hoped that she wouldn't let him down, now that he had broken through the last of her barriers. "Thank you, Booth." She pressed a kiss to another scar, just above his left pectoral - a scar that still haunted her nightmares.

Booth sensed that she wanted to say more, but that she wasn't quite ready. He offered her a reprieve of sorts as he pulled the sheet up with his toes, covering their bodies once he could grab it with his fingers. "You don't need to thank me, Bones." He tucked down into his pillow. "You just keep loving me like you do..." He smiled when he felt her lips curl into a grin against his chest and he reached over to turn off his bedside lamp.

"OK," she whispered. "I can do that."

**Postscript A/N. **

**I hope that was ok. I imagine it may be different than some of you were expecting, but this is the way JazzyMuse decided the story should be told… **

**Up next, we will get back to the convention and see how our favorite duo handles the exercises now that things have changed…. **

**Please don't read and run! With all the stress happening in my life right now, responses are the things keeping me going. **

**peace and love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N **

**Hello and welcome back! **

**Thank you all for returning, and more importantly, for your continued support of my story! I greatly appreciate hearing from everyone. **

**And wow, I don't know what's happening, but I've been receiving a sudden influx of emails showing that folks are finding my old pieces and starting to favorite them and follow me. THANK YOU! (I'm assuming you're reading this piece too, as this story has new followers!) I am not sure how you're finding me, but seeing so many people find my former pieces **_**and favorite them (!) **_**is a pretty amazing feeling! Even if something is marked complete, please take a moment and review it, letting me know what you liked or didn't like. I try my best to weigh all the feedback I get, positive and negative, and let it influence some of my future story paths. **

**On that note, I know many of you ask me to post more often. I promise that I'm posting as often as I can. I have a lot of sticks in the fire and this is a hobby, so as such, there are many times that I simply cannot dedicate the kind of time I'd like to on writing. But I promise to continue posting as often as possible. **

**Now, shall we continue? **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or its characters - I think we all know this, but apparently I'm supposed to do one of these disclaimers each time… So there you have it. **

Booth involuntarily tightened his arm as he woke, feeling sated and very well rested. He smiled into the soft hair that had spilled onto his pillow and nuzzled his nose against the back of his partner's neck as he moved closer. He swept his fingertips against the silky skin of his partner's tummy, sighing in contentment at their newfound intimacy.

"Hmm," Brennan hummed in approval at the gentle touches that were coaxing her from a peaceful slumber, instantly knowing where she was and with whom she was waking. And somewhere in her sleepy subconscious, she knew there had never been a morning when waking beside a man had felt more natural. Grinning when she felt his lips find her bare shoulder, she wiggled her hips playfully, instantly feeling his morning erection press against her bottom.

Booth groaned at the contact and flexed the fingers against her stomach. His other arm, which was threaded beneath the hollow of her neck, curled downward across her body and his wide hand immediately settled on her bare breast, palming her confidently. He smiled when her cool fingers reach back to grip his thigh, keeping him flush against her, and he pressed another kiss against her warm, sleepy skin.

"Mornin'," he whispered, knowing that he was already addicted to waking up with her in his arms. His left hand squeezed gently, his thumb sweeping over her hardening nipple while his right started roaming freely.

"Good morning," she grinned lazily, arching her body against his, completely open to his explorations.

"How'd you sleep?" His mouth moved from her shoulder to her neck and he muttered his appreciation when she moved her hair out of the way for him. His fingers wandered along the soft contours of her torso, stroking and tickling gently, all while his keen observational skills catalogued her reactions. When his fingers dipped low enough, brushing against the smooth folds that had awed him the night before, he felt his desire for her jolt through his body like an electric shock.

She purred in response, unable to form a coherent reply while he was kissing and stroking her. His mouth was so warm, and his nibbles sent chills down her spine, so she simply flexed her long fingers into the flesh of his thigh and encouraged him to continue. Almost involuntarily, her knees parted, just enough to silently encourage his intimate ministrations to continue.

With a soft, primal grunt, Booth pulled her body tightly against his, nudging his knee between her parted thighs without pretense while sliding his fingers lower. He didn't bother to stifle his second, more aggressive growl, as his calloused fingertip met the wet heat that had, thus far, blown away every single fantasy his imagination had ever entertained. When he received no resistance to his bold move, he pressed his fingers further, opening her petals and seeking the tight little bundle of nerves that he had quickly learned would elicit the most delicious reaction. Strumming it lazily with his thumb, his lips curled into a cocky grin when Brennan's body betrayed any sort of cool exterior she might have attempted to emit.

"Ahh," she breathed, the airy quality to her voice was in direct contradiction to her typically strong verbal tones and spoke to Booth's inner alpha personality on an ancient level. Before her sleepy, morning-brain could even comprehend what was happening, his thick fingers had pressed into her at the perfect angle, immediately causing her body to shatter as she moaned for him. Booth's name dripped from her tongue as easily as if they'd been making love for years rather than only a few short hours, and while her brain registered this fact, she pushed it away in favor of savoring the feelings coursing through her body.

Booth slowed the assault his fingers were waging against her body and he waited as she rode out the waves of her climax. Once he felt her body settle, and a gentle sigh escaped her throat, he extracted his appendages from her slick heat and rolled her compliant body onto her back. For the first time since waking to the brilliant daylight, he met her bright blues when he brushed her unruly hair back from her eyes. He relished the moment, admiring the pretty pink flush that filled her cheeks, the adorably crooked smile that curled the corners of her soft lips and the warm sensation of her palm as it reached up and cradled his jaw. In that moment, he knew without a doubt, that he _never_ wanted to wake anyplace other than at her side. For years he had foolishly denied his feelings for her; he'd pushed her away, keeping them at, _what he considered_, a safe distance apart. But when she looked up at him, her silver-blue oceans sparkling with unspoken volumes of emotions, the honest truth that they belonged together was instantly reinforced.

"I love you, Bones." His words spilled without forethought. He could practically see her careful calculation of his declaration, and he was pleased to see no panic in her expression, only peace. "You don't need to say it, you don't even need to label it, Baby." He kissed her cheek tenderly. "I see it shining back at me… And I feel it when we're together."

Grateful that he understood her so well, Brennan fought emotional tears as her body struggled to maintain a handle on the tirade of feelings erupting. She smiled, her fingertips tracing his zygomatic arch before moving up to drag through his messy spikes. Formulating an answer, she tilted her head and ignored a single, traitorous tear that escaped and rolled down her cheek. When his thumb caught it, erasing all traces of the salty trail immediately, she hummed.

"But I _can_ name it, Booth," she watched his dark eyes as they traversed the contours of her face. Finding herself at ease, the likes of which she'd never experienced, she let her fingers fall from his hair and trace his ear, his broad shoulder and collarbone, until her pointer rested upon his suprasternal notch. "I know that I've dismissed the notion for years… But your persistent declarations and countless selfless actions disprove my theories. Love _does_ exist… It's real." She could feel the moment his chocolate orbs stopped searching her face and snapped up to meet her gaze, so she shifted her focus from his throat to his eyes. "And I already know that I love you."

Hearing the words was sweeter than he'd ever imagined. Sure, he knew, deep down, how she felt; she had practically told him the morning after their first date when she joined him on the balcony to watch the sunrise, and the night before she told him that he meant a lot. But knowing it and hearing it were worlds apart from each other. And even if she never spoke the phrase again, Booth could go to the grave the happiest man in the world. Cradling her jaw in his wide hand, he pressed a gentle kiss to her silky lips. His own mouth curling into a smile against hers, he rubbed their noses and spoke against her skin. "Thank you," he whispered. "I promise you won't regret this, Temperance," he used her given name, ensuring he had her full attention. "I'll love you every day."

Spanning her long, slender fingers around his shoulder, she tugged, wanting him closer, as her lips reached for his, deepening their kiss immediately. When he shifted his weight and started moving over her, Brennan parted her thighs for him, instantly conforming to his narrow hips as he settled. The anthropologist was no stranger to declarations of love and affection directed towards her. She had heard the tiny phrase uttered to her from previous lovers. Peter...Sully...even a few misguided _temporary_ figures in her life... But she had never returned the sentiment when they said it. Typically, she would initiate sexual contact, which would essentially obliterate the need for further conversation in that moment, and as such, she had successfully navigated various discussions that could have grown uncomfortable. But with Booth, _everything_ was so different.

This rogue Special Agent had invaded her balanced world of reason and logic, setting it askew with his talk of faith and loyalty and love. He had blindly trusted her, even though there were times when she _knew_ he didn't understand her explanations or expressions. He stood up and vouched for her from the very beginning, speaking in defense of her worth in the field, despite the fact that Cullen never wanted to allow her to partner with his promising young agent. Booth spent countless hours helping to teach her about pop culture, and the right or wrong ways of addressing the grieving families of their victims. And she knew, _though he had never actually admitted to her_, that he'd been formally disciplined by the Assistant Director more than a few times for defending her name among other agents at the Hoover... She was not quite as clueless as many people thought, and she heard about various scraps in the gym locker room, arguments in the bullpen and nose-to-nose challenges in the parking garage... He'd been defending her, and protecting their partnership, for years.

Seeley Joseph Booth had, over the course of their friendship, even through the rough patches, proven to the scientist that he loved her...unconditionally. And those actions, his unwavering devotion to her, had forced her to reconsider her clinical, scientific definition of the elusive and mythical emotion called _Love_.

"Say it again," she asked him quietly.

"I love you." There was no hesitancy, never a doubt in his mind about what she was requesting. And when her cheeks rose in response, he knew he'd gotten it spot-on.

"I love you, too." She threaded her fingers into his thick hair again and pulled him down for a kiss, swallowing her own unusually giddy giggle.

Booth suspended his weight on his elbows as he nibbled her lips and slipped his tongue against hers. With a practiced precision that belied the early stage of their sexual relationship, he rolled his hips forward and pressed into her snug heat smoothly. As sighs and whispered sentiments filled the quiet morning hour, the partners broke the laws of physics time and again, each in awe of the other and confident in the pending success of their new relationship.

B/B/B/B

Sweets greeted the room with a broad smile, smoothing his bright red tie as he approached the microphone. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Please," he spanned his hands out, indicating towards the tables, "please, take your seats." He waited for the crowd to settle, nodding at various agents whose eyes he met. Once the milling agents had, for the most part, quieted down, he continued. "On behalf of the team of facilitators, I want to express our appreciation for everyone's enthusiasm so far this week. Your contributions to the various discussions, your active participation in the activities and your candid feedback has been invaluable." He glanced at Simmons and nodded. Various photographs flashed up on the two large television screens on either side of the stage. There were candid shots of agents in their break-out sessions, listening actively to the lectures, random images from their group team building workshop the day before as partners worked together completing worksheets and sharing answers, and various accounts of agents engaged in conversation and camaraderie during their free time. "After only a few days together, we are already seeing marked improvements among the array of partnerships in attendance. And for that, you are all congratulated." He paused, nodding in approval at several attendees. "The updated competition standings will be announced before we finalize this afternoon's session, so I'll thank each of you now for your patience as you wait to see where your partnership ranks." He smiled indulgently, choosing to ignore the grumbles from a few of the highly-competitive participants. He continued, pointing to the television screens which were suddenly filled with blank bullet points that would soon be completed as he spoke, outlining the instructions for that day's activity.

"The general, overall reaction to the session we conducted a couple days ago was _very _positive. We decided that today, we will take a different spin on the confession/confessor angle. This morning, we are going to conduct a team building exercise designed to develop your _emotional awareness_. It is aimed to help you better understand your partner, their insecurities and their strengths. In this extremely beneficial activity, each of you will evaluate a single characteristic or trait about your partner from two opposing angles. You will better understand how they feel about these various aspects of their personal or business life as you discuss the diverse reactions. _Your_ opinions and responses to the elements of discussion can, _and often do_, affect _their_ opinions of themselves. It is important to realize that your reactions will also alter the way your partner views and feels about _you_." Sweets smiled, ignoring the blatantly angry glares he knew were directed at him, collectively from the members of the Hoover table, but mostly from one Special Agent Seeley Booth. "Ultimately, the knowledge and experience you draw from learning to improve and control your emotional, instinctive responses will result in a more cohesive unit. As each of you explore each other's insecurities and confidences, you'll gain a better understanding of how your reactions affect the person on the receiving end."

As Booth listened to Sweets explain the convoluted intricacies and purpose for their afternoon of hell, he realized the kid was way too excited about this activity. _More fucking confessions? Are you shitting me?_ Booth thought to himself, clenching his jaw and sparing a glance at his partner, who was barely containing her discomfort. _I don't need to place myself in Bones' shoes, I get her just fine. I already understand her insecurities._..

"The rules are simple." The young psychologist pointed to the large screens to his left and right, where the bullet points were boldly highlighted as he spoke. "You will break into your partnership teams. Like our activity the other day, you will each take a turn playing the Confessor and the Critic. The Confessor will confess or admit to something about themselves about which they are insecure, or something that they know upsets their partner. It could even be something in their life, whether it is personal or business, that they would like to change. The emphasis should be on something that affects both you and your partner, or your performance in the job, but that doesn't necessarily mean it must pertain to work. The Critic will take that information and handle it two different ways. The first reaction should be _negative_..." At the surprised expressions he saw staring back at him, he quickly continued to assure the attendees that it will get better. "Just... Just think of the worst teacher you could possibly imagine, using you as an example for the class, and how upsetting it would be. Now," he glanced around, sweeping his eyes across the entire room, "we don't want anyone's feelings to be permanently hurt, so don't attack or judge _the person_, simply react to the action or weakness of the confession. Then, on the notepads provided at your seats, you will both take a moment to jot down your feelings about how the negative reaction made you feel. Once you've both made your respective notes, the Critic should then apply a positive reaction to the confession. That doesn't mean that you need to _agree _with or condone the action or trait that has been confessed, it simply means that you should try to understand, empathize or associate with your partner... Tell them how you feel about that personality trait or their actions, explain how you think the two of you can work past this difference." His eyes finally landed on Booth's hard stare and he felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. "And then," he swallowed, knowing that Booth hated making Brennan revisit her insecurities, but knowing that if any of the partners would benefit from this activity, it would be them. His tore his eyes away. "And then, you will each make notes again about how you felt after the positive reaction. When you've completed that," he forced a smile, "switch roles. The Confessor becomes the Critic and vice versa, and you will repeat the process."

Sweets let the information and guidelines sink in as attendees murmured to each other, reinforcing the steps and deciding among one another who would take which role first. He continued, wanting to maintain their attention before they started to break off into pairs. "Once everyone has had the chance to partake in both roles, we will come back together for a group discussion. Like last time, we won't ask for personal details about your conversations, but look forward to having a group discussion about your shared experiences. If anyone needs assistance, or mediation as you conduct this trust exercise, Doctor Jakob, Doctor Sanders and I will be available for guidance and insight, just flag one of us down and we'll be happy to help."

The young doctor nodded, indicating the he was through speaking, and he watched as people started to disburse into their respective partnership pairings. He chanced a glance at the Hoover table and noted the unmistakable tension in Booth's posture as he pushed up from the table and bent over to speak to Brennan. Sweets chewed the inside of his lips in silence when he noticed the way Booth's hand disappeared beneath Brennan's loose hair, undoubtedly settling somewhere on the back of her neck; it was a movement that he had never seen the agent do before. _Sure_, Sweets thought, _Booth's hand is often on Dr. Brennan's back or occasionally on her arm as he guides her places, but to slip beneath her hair like that seems more intimate than usual. _ He filed this observation away for future evaluation as he forced his gaze to move across the room, not wanting to be caught staring at the most fascinating partnership he'd ever encountered in his young career.

B/B/B/B

With an angry grunt, Booth pushed to his feet, intending to move back to the corner the'd occupied during Sweets' last session, though he hated to think about the blow-up that resulted from their previous Confessor/Critic exercise. When he saw the rigid posture of his partner as she remained in her seat, her hands folded tightly as they rested on the table in front of her, he bent down to get her attention.

"Bones?" He spoke quietly, barely receiving acknowledgement from his partner. When she continued to stare at her hands, he gave into his itchy fingers and smoothed them across her shoulders, not really giving a damn who might see the contact. When he was palming the back of her neck, he swiped his thumb up to her earlobe gently. "Hey," his voice was quiet. "Let's move over there, huh?" He motioned towards his intended destination. "C'mon, Bones."

Her wide eyes finally lifted to his and spoke volumes. Among other things, she was worried about what had happened just two short days before, but she didn't want to voice it… The scientist was concerned that they would have a replay of the horrible day they'd endured, despite how much had happened between them since.

"It's alright, Bones." He knew what was bothering her, even without hearing it. "We can do this. We're fine, right?" He watched as she rolled her lips between her teeth and nodded unsteadily. "Yeah, we're good." He tugged her sleeve gently. "Come with me." Grabbing his chair, he moved away from the table and felt her presence behind him, thankful that she acquiesced to his gentle prodding.

Booth knew he would have to tread carefully. Besides their blow-up from Sweets' previous asinine experiment, he was pretty sure he knew what else she was worried about - it was a discussion they'd had several times before: she didn't think she was capable of empathy. Booth knew better, he knew that she, more than almost anyone else, felt empathy...even if she didn't realize that's what she was feeling. It was the _conveyance_ of the emotion that she struggled with. Once they were seated, face to face with notepads on their laps, Booth tilted his head. "Do you want to be the Confessor or the Critic first, Bones?"

"Booth," her voice nearly squeaked and she mentally reprimanded herself for showing a weakness when surrounded by his colleagues and counterparts. "Do we have to do this? I don't understand how this ludicrous exercise could help us. We have already proven our efficiency at working through our differences and insecurities..."

Leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, he held his notepad and fingered the blank pages absently. Raising intense, dark eyes up to her's, the agent nodded. "We have to at least make a good showing of doing it, Bones. We don't need to delve into anything too emotional. But we do need to talk, at least a little bit. I don't want to get nailed for not participating… Do you?"

She pinched her lips together, not at all happy about this whole situation, but understanding Booth's point. Inhaling slowly and shook her head. "No. I don't want to provide them with a reason to sever our partnership." She felt one side of her lips curl ever so slightly. "Especially," she shrugged one shoulder and eyed Booth. "You know, especially _now…_"

He dipped his chin in complete understanding, unsuccessfully hiding his happy grin, then winked at her from beneath his brows. "Yeah. I know exactly what you mean…"

Brennan weighed her options, trying to decide which would be the lesser of the two evils between Confessor or Critic… The scientist glanced around the room, noticing the other teams interacting, some laughing while others appeared to be taking it quite seriously. She settled her cool eyes back on Booth and nodded, remembering that he had been the first to make a confession the last time they sat in this arrangement. "I'll confess first."

He studied her, curious about why she chose to confess rather than dole out judgement, as she was so successful at doing, but opted not to question her. "Alright," he sat back and settled in his seat. "Whenever you're ready."

Brennan thought for a moment, reviewing the guidelines in her mind. She needed to confess a trait or characteristic that was a hindrance to their partnership, something that could cause problems between her and Booth, personally or professionally, or some aspect of her personality that she wished she could change. As the anthropologist thought carefully, mentally rifling through her catalog of insecurities, she realized that she had several issues with herself in respect to her relationship with Booth, and it was a sudden, scary realization for her. Analyzing the pros and cons of her numerous options, she suspected these hang-ups wouldn't exactly be news to her partner, but admitting them aloud was certainly unfamiliar territory.

"I acknowledge that I'm often too literal." She rolled her lips between her teeth as she refused to meet his gaze. "And I am cold..._and_ clinical." Her eyes flitted down to her folded hands and she studied the way her knuckles turned white as she gripped her own fingers. "And even though I am a certifiable genius, I am apparently also naive… And…"

"Whoa, Bones. Wait." Booth leaned forward again, spanning his fingers midair and trying to catch her eye, concerned about her plummeting self-esteem.

"And I am better at understanding the dead than I am the living…" She ignored his interruption and plowed on. "I am intolerant of stupidity and impatient with individuals with whom I have nothing in common…"

"Bones, stop." He clenched his teeth, still trying to get her to make eye contact with him.

Unable to stop herself once she'd started, the scientist simply continued to bulldoze through his interruptions. "I am incapable of empathy and unable to return affections that are occasionally bestowed upon me…"

Hearing enough of her self-degradation, Booth reached out and covered her hands, not caring who was watching or listening. "Temperance. _Look _at me. Stop putting yourself down like this..."

Her pale blues lifted to meet his dark eyes, and she struggled to understand what was happening to herself. "The point of this exercise is to name those characteristics about ourselves that are in-congruent with fostering a successful partnership…" Her tone was clinical, and sounded detached, even to her own ear, but she continued nevertheless. "In choosing to be the first confessor, I have realized, Booth, that I possess several negative traits that will inevitably harm our relationship," she lowered her voice, "both personally and professionally."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing and felt himself becoming agitated. Wrinkling his brow, he hissed at her. "Are you smoking _crack_ or somethin'? Did you," he shook his head, glancing sideways for a split second before staring hard into her eyes. "I dunno… Did somebody slip a pill into your water over there at the table?" He tightened his fingers when he felt her start to pull away and he softened his expression. "Bones… Since _when_ did you develop such a _poor_ self image? What the _hell_?"

She tilted her head to the side, wishing she could express herself better, and finally voiced _that _particular inability as well. "I _can't_ even put my feelings _into words_, Booth…" She swallowed thickly, feeling the tell-tale prickling sensation behind her eyes that warned her of the impending tears threatening to break through. She was starting to doubt the wisdom in pushing Booth to take their conference-competition seriously, because she suddenly wished for nothing more than to show up to the meetings and not participate at all...

"Ok," Booth squared his shoulders as he tried to think of a way to navigate _around_ an impending Brennan-meltdown. He knew that until he had the opportunity to sit with her in private and truly discuss the damn exercise that Shrinky-Boy assigned to them, they'd be walking a very precarious line. "I think…. Well, you're not gettin' this whole confession-thing, Bones… Listen, you're being _way_ too hard on yourself, for reasons that I can't even begin to understand right now. But this," he motioned at her, "this first-person-bashing, self-loathing thing you have going on, that is not the way this activity is supposed to work." He ducked his head and eyed her from lowered brows. "Take my gambling addiction, for example. _That_ is something that affects the way I conduct myself personally and professionally… It's a challenge that I fight on a daily basis." He hoped that by demonstrating how the exercise was done, she would stop finding so many faults with herself.

She stared at him hard, her pale orbs unblinking as she rolled his statement around on her hamster wheel. "You are absolutely correct, Booth," she told him matter-of-factly and without apology. "It _does_ effect your performance. It causes you to reaction in reckless and impulsive ways. You take chances before you know the true odds of success or failure, and you often jump to unsubstantiated conclusions before all the evidence is gathered and analysed." Knowing that his penchant for taking risks could ultimately lead to catastrophe, Brennan felt her own concern for him rising. "You need to be more cautious entering into unclear situations," she pointed her thin finger at him. "You have a son to think about… You have…" she swallowed thickly and lowered her voice. "There are people who worry about you," she rolled her lips between her teeth. "People who care about you…"

Reading her concerns loud and clear despite her quiet volume, he tilted his head. "You're right." He bumped her knee gently with his own. "I have _you_ to think about…"

"Good morning! How are things going over here, Agent Booth? Dr. Brennan?" Their hushed discussion was interrupted when Boy-Wonder himself made an unannounced appearance at their sides.

Both the partners bolted upright in their seats, pulling apart from the close proximity that had formed while deep in discussion. A cool pair of blues and pissed-off browns swiveled up at the psychologist in unison. The younger man noticed, and filed away for later contemplation, the matching rosiness that filled the partners' cheeks and the startled expressions they both wore before schooling their features once more.

"Get lost, Sweets," Booth didn't bother with the niceties of a greeting.

"Agent Booth," Sweets had been anticipating a confrontation, knowing how the partners both hated these types of projects while simultaneously protecting one another without hesitation.

"Beat it, kid. The adults here," he motioned between himself and Brennan, "are speaking. _Privately_."

"Agent Booth, I recognize that, for you, condescension is a form of deflection, of self-preservation, even. But hostility is not necessary. We need to be able to communicate-"

Brennan pushed to her feet and fisted her hands at her sides. "_Doctor_ Sweets, we do not require your interjection, _nor_ do we appreciate the interruption. Booth and are perfectly capable of navigating your useless little mind games on our own. You made it perfectly clear when you were speaking from the podium that you were available for those individuals who require assistance or guidance, _neither_ of which is needed here." Her gaze was unwavering as she dared the soft-scientist to challenge her declaration.

Trying to smooth over his patients' ruffled feathers, he tented his hands beneath his chin before speaking. Raising his eyes, he continued in calm tones. "Dr. Brennan, as a facilitator of this event, it is, in part, my responsibility to ensure no one is struggling with admitting to and/or overcoming obstacles that may hinder growth and progress as partners. Oftentimes individuals find it difficult to discuss their own shortcomings or to criticize those of their partner. Partaking in an open discussion of these character traits can result in discomfort and-"

Booth pushed to his feet and turned, standing beside his partner to face the intruding shrink. "Look it, kid… Me an' Bones don't have problems talkin' through our differences of opinions or opposing points of view. And we sure as _hell _don't pussy-foot around topics like pointing out weaknesses or reinforcing strengths…"

Brennan tilted her head towards Booth, whispering in not-so-hushed tones. "The correct grammar would be _Bones and I_, not _me and Bones_, Booth."

His jaw ticked in disbelief as he turned to look at her with a cocked eyebrow. "Yeah, because _proper_ _grammar_ is the most important thing here, right, Bones?" He shook his head at the barely contained mischievous glint in her eye and hid his grin successfully. "Listen," he turned back to Sweets. "Just go be shrinky somewhere else." When it appeared that Sweets was going to argue to stay, Booth dipped his chin, pinning the younger man with a hard stare. "If you continue to insist on harassing us and trying to create friction that doesn't exist, I am going to have a little chat with Cullen about your little experiment. I don't care how many years have lapsed since your fucked up attempt to play with Bones' emotions, I will take it up the chain. Without apology." He fisted his hands on his hips and tilted his head, cracking his neck loudly. "Now, we don't need your help… Go. Away."

Recognizing that if he pushed any harder, the two individuals making up the Number-One FBI team were likely to completely lose their tempers and follow through with Booth's unveiled threat, Sweets nodded. "Well, I disagree with your assessment, Agent Booth. But," he spanned his hands in surrender, "I will yield to your wishes and leave you guys alone." When he saw the instantaneous relief reflected in their eyes, he cocked an eyebrow. "_For now_, I will leave you alone. For. Now."

Watching the metaphorical stand-off between the men, Brennan remained silent, moving just her eyes to Booth and taking her cue from him as to whether or not to trust Sweets. When she saw him nod stiffly, almost begrudgingly, her cool blues turned back to Sweets as she, too, gave a single nod of acknowledgement.

Watching the young doctor walk away, Booth turned to Brennan and winked playfully. "I think we scared him."

Brennan's lips curled into an impish smile. "_You_ scared him, I didn't…" She smirked. "_I_ was a mere bystander, Booth… If anyone is called to the teacher's office, it will be you."

Chuckling, looked down at his feet before eyeing her again. "_Principal's _office, Bones. I'm gunna be called to the _Principal's office_…"

"Oh, well," she resettled in her seat, smoothing a crease in her capri pants. "That's even worse, I suspect, Booth. I'd _much _rather be called to the Teacher's office than the Principal's office…" She raised an eyebrow, her pale eyes sparkling. "As I recall, only the bad kids got called to the Principal's office in school…"

"No, Bones, the saying isn't -" He watched as she laughed at her own nerdy joke, not realizing it wasn't even remotely funny, and he just rolled his eyes. "Never mind… You're absolutely right, Bones… It's _much _worse being sent to the Principal…" He sat back into his chair and crossed his right ankle over his left knee, bouncing his foot as he waited for his partner to refocus. Once she had regained her composure, Booth smiled softly. He was inwardly happy that his back was to the room, so no one could see his expression; he was certain that anyone who looked at him in that moment would see that he was head-over-heels in love with the woman facing him.

When Brennan met his warm brown eyes, she tilted her head and sighed. "I found the whole scenario of you being called into a Principal's office to be quite humorous, Booth."

He winked, happy to see his partner relaxed and at ease, especially moments after she had been so hard on herself. "Well," he folded his hands on his stomach as he slouched in his chair. "I'll be honest with ya," he chuckled at his own memories. "I spent more than my fair share of time in the Principal's office when I was a kid." He shrugged one shoulder. "Guess I didn't really like to conform to the rules, even back then…"

After a few moments of friendly banter and teasing, the partners finally returned to the task at hand. Booth eyed Brennan carefully and leaned forward slightly. "Bones." He licked his lips. "I'm sorry that my addiction manifests itself into recklessness." He watched as she, once again, became very serious as she listened to his confession. "I will try to do better."

Admiring her partner's unfailing ability to calm her when she is emotional or hyper-sensitive to a specific task or subject, she studied his face. "You're a very brave man, Booth. And," she raised her eyebrows and squared her shoulders, "in all likelihood, it's your former addiction that drives your bold behaviors, but I _do _worry about you. And now…" She felt her own cheeks warm in reaction to her brief thoughts of their new relationship. "Now I can't imagine what would happen if you recklessly, and _knowingly_, endangered your life on the gamble that you'd have the upper hand in a confrontation with a suspect." When she saw him take a breath, she already knew he had an argument for her concern, so she just kept talking. "I know that no matter what kinds of precautions we take when going into a crime scene, that there will always be risks, I understand that… But maybe we can take heed to the known variables and act accordingly." She looked at him hopefully.

He grinned and started bouncing his foot again. "Maybe you can take some of your own advice, Bones." He cocked an eyebrow challengingly. "Y'know, maybe let me go through doors first, or enter suspects' homes first…" Shrugging one shoulder playfully. "I mean, after all, I am the one with the gun…"

Realizing that she had pretty much painted herself into that corner, Brennan could do nothing but concede to his wishes. She nodded and exhaled slowly. "Yes," she met his sly grin. "That _does _make sense…"

Extending his hand with a smile, he accepted hers. "Deal." They shook in verbal contract, but he held onto her a little longer than necessary, pulling her slightly forward so she would hear him as he spoke quietly. "Later, when we have some privacy, there's more that we need to discuss." He pinned her with a serious look, unmistakably referring to the very harsh evaluation she had just given to herself. "But this isn't the time."

Watching him with wide, trusting eyes, Brennan nodded, knowing her partner wouldn't let the topic drop. While she truly believed she possessed unfavorable traits and occasionally conducted herself in questionable ways, she also knew Booth would challenge her self-assessment. Extracting her hand she sat upright in her seat as he continued to watch her, as if he didn't believe her conviction in agreeing to continue their talk later. She inhaled sharply and nodded more forcefully. "Alright, Booth." She acquiesced to his insistence. "We'll talk..."

Certain that they would be fine on their own, once they sat down with a drink in a private setting, Booth nodded to his notepad. "I don't really have anything to write down. I'll be more careful and try to limit the influence my addiction has on my job."

She smiled. "And I'll let the _gun_ go first… more often."

"_No_, Bones, _all _the time." He stood up, noticing that most partners were reconvening around their tables.

"Booth," she countered, her face forming a mutinous frown. "I am _perfectly_ capable of taking care of myself…" She also stood, dragging her chair behind her as she trailed behind Booth, heading back over to their Hoover teammates.

**Postscript A/N**

**Well, that little interaction went much better than their previous Confessor/Critic exercise! I've been pulling these workshop topics and team-building sessions from my own experiences, as I've attended several week-long conferences through my employer in the past; I've just tweaked the verbiage and steps to favor a partnership arrangement rather than a whole team environment. I never liked these conventions - but I went anyway, because inevitably, there was free time when we could decompress and some seriously fun entertainment. I hope that some of these sessions have converted well to this setup. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I look forward to hearing from you!**

**peace and love, my friends, **

**~jazzy **


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N Hello and welcome back! I hope you are all well! **

**Thank you for your continued support and patience as JazzyMuse constructed this chapter! My original outline doesn't even resemble what I ended up with, but I think I actually like this better than my initial plan for this chapter. I hope you do, too. **

**OK, so can I just say, that in my opinion, this season's finale was THE BEST finale I think they've ever done. I don't think it's any secret that I've been more than a little disillusioned and disheartened these last few seasons with the character development and interactions of the cast, but this finale blew me outta the water. I loved every second of it and cannot wait until 2017!**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Bones. Man, alive, I wish I did… Oh the places they would go and the things they would see :) **

Returning to their table, the partners fell into easy conversation with the Hoover agents as they, too, resettled in their respective seats. Shaw eagerly engaged Brennan in a description of the morning session that she and Janet had attended and found to be very enlightening.

"This morning," Shaw began, "Janet and I attended a breakout session titled _Expanding your Partnership_, which focused on working alongside various departments and sharing resources. There were two Forensics Agents also in attendance, from the South Jersey field office - Gomez and Martinez. They said they worked the Jersey Shore case with you and Agent Booth when you were up there a few years back."

Wrinkling her brow, Brennan tried to remember the names. She shook her head and met Shaw's eyes. "I cannot recall those agents specifically. Booth and I had very little direct contact with the support agents working the background in New Jersey. For the most part, I worked with the Head of Forensics, Special Agent Dr. Miller." She sipped her water. "And my interactions with him were mostly instructional, ensuring that the evidence was collected and secured in a way in which our team would approve. If Agents Gomez and Martinez worked under Miller, then they must have been part of the collection team."

Shaw nodded in understanding. She had seen Brennan in action often enough to know that if The Jeffersonian Squints were not the ones on premises, then she was more than proficient at doling out orders unapologetically, even to agents of a higher rank than her own partner. "Well," she smiled, "they said they learned a lot and have continued to carry on your methods of preference when working a crime scene." She tilted her head and observed Brennan's expression as she processed this new information. "They were very grateful for everything they learned."

Brennan nodded, wondering about the possible methods over which she might have had an impact or influence. Regardless of her intentions while there, Brennan was happy to have inspired scientists in their hosting field territory and she simply accepted the information from Shaw. "In that case, I am glad they garnered experience from my expertise." She wasn't the least bit modest. "If they implement and remain consistent with the methods that _we _have tested and proven, it will result in a higher solve rate because their evidence and support will be uncontaminated, accurately documented and, as such, indisputable."

Janet listened attentively, silently wondering if, as an office-based Agent, she would ever have the opportunity to see the infamous duo in action. In her short time with the bureau leading up to the conference, she had heard plenty of local folklore of sorts, about the partners, not to mention the tidbits of information Shaw had fed to her. While her interactions with Booth at the office had been pleasant enough, and her few conversations with Brennan at the convention were polite, she suspected that witnessing them working a scene or interrogating suspects would be quite impressive, if not somewhat intimidating.

"OK," Sweets stepped too close to the microphone when he approached it and the feedback echoed through the room, high and loud, gaining everyone's attention far better than if he had simply waited for them to acknowledge him. "Whoa," he tapped the thin foam mic windscreen playfully. "Sorry 'bout that." His plump red lips curled into a childish smile as his cheeks warmed with a pink blush. "This thing is _really _sensitive." He tapped it once more and laughed nervously. "Yeah, so. Anyway," he regained his poise and looked around the room. "It looks like everyone is just about finished with the exercise…" His large eyes took another sweep across the sea of tables. "I'd like to go ahead and open the floor for discussion." He searched the faces staring back at him, hoping that someone would volunteer to go first, but no one seemed particularly interested.

"The, uhh, purpose of this activity is to help open a dialog of _positive _communication." Noticing some unhappy expressions glaring back at him, he became nervous that his workshop had failed, resulting, instead, in hard feelings and misunderstandings. "Everybody possesses traits or characteristics that have the potential to negatively influence a team." He rolled his lips between his teeth anxiously. "Is there anyone who would like to begin the discussion on how you felt as you and your partner worked through the exercise, empathizing with or better understanding each other's confessions?" When the group's reluctance persisted, Sweets' eyes swiveled to the unofficial-official Hoover table anxiously. Knowing he would catch some flack if he were to simply call on someone to start, he hoped that the rapport he had with his own team would be enough to smooth over any ruffled feathers.

His first instinct was to call on Booth and Brennan, knowing that they were likely the most successful pair at completing the task. When he caught Booth's ebony glare, however, and noted Brennan's tense posture and her clear refusal to make eye contact, he quickly turned his attention elsewhere. "Agent Shaw," he hoped that the young mid-western woman would be willing to kick things off. "I know that you and Agent Soto have only recently partnered, but would you mind sharing your experience?"

Genevieve Shaw shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling a rush of heat fill her cheeks as a roomful of attention swiveled in her direction. She hated being put on the spot, but she suspected most people did. Turning to Soto, she was met with wide eyes from her relatively timid partner. "Are you ok if we go first?" She whispered to Janet, the feeling of obligation overwhelming her.

With a shrug of one shoulder, the rookie agent nodded. "I guess if we get it over with now, we're not sitting here stewing…"

With a smirk of agreement, Shaw nodded in agreement. "Right." She looked back at Sweets and cleared her throat, preparing to start the dialog that Sweets so desperately wanted underway. "Well," she glanced at her notes, "as you pointed out, Janet and I have only been partnered a short while… _But_, we discussed and agreed that even at times when we might feel overwhelmed or in too deep, so to speak, that neither of us," she glanced around her table at the familiar faces watching her, "and _no one_, for that matter, should be afraid to ask for help or guidance."

Janet picked up where Jenny left off, almost seamlessly. "Exactly. There is, almost assuredly, _some_one, _somewhere_ who knows more than you do, or has had a similar experience with a situation that you might be struggling with." She glanced around the room, seeing a mixture of facial reactions, some agreeing, some not.

Jenny Shaw took over again, volleying the result of their discussion with the ease of a seasoned partnership. "And there is no shame in asking a colleague or supervisor for insight or assistance. And in the reverse role, if you're fortunate enough to be the one whose help is sought, don't make that person feel inferior for asking… No one started their career knowing everything, so it's important to remember how you felt when you were the so-called 'new kid on the block,' and have a little bit of patience with those of us who've not yet gained that level of experience." She smiled and turned toward Booth with a reverent nod. "I, for one, am very grateful to be working under Agent Booth's advisory in our nation's capital." She moved her attention to the rest of the room. "And while I can't speak for the rest of my Hoover team, in _my _experience, Agent Booth has never been degrading towards individuals who've sought his expertise and help. I believe we could all benefit from emulating that type of outlook when it comes to helping one another."

Surprised to have been acknowledged in the young Agent's debrief, Booth dipped his chin and eyed both Shaw and Soto. "Thank you, Agents."

"I think it holds true for the whole DC Field Office," Perotta spoke up loud enough for everyone to hear, supporting the views of her younger counterparts. "Agents Shaw and Soto bring up a good point…" She turned in her seat to face other tables, clearly more comfortable with speaking up in a room full of agents, the majority of whom were more seasoned than Shaw. "Everybody's experiences, in both addressing _and _effectively resolving the myriad of situations we face on a daily basis, vary drastically. If we share those lessons with one another, it would inevitably result in a more cohesive working environment." Turning in her chair again, to face other attendees as well as a gathering of upper level management seated against the wall, she continued. "I would challenge every AIC and those individuals of a higher ranking to have an open door policy as that which we have at the Hoover. While I am assigned to the Major Crimes division, I've been able to reach out to other AIC's, such as Special Agent Ryan in Cyber Crimes, on various occasions for assistance in cases which cross over and blur those lines that divide departments. And on the flip-side, I've seen countless Agents from other areas poking around our floor, waiting to see Booth for his advice as well."

A pair of female agents sitting behind Booth at a neighboring table exchanged knowing glances and smiled. "Well," one young woman leaned closer to her friend and partner, whispering as she admired the broad shoulders of the man in question. "If our AIC looked like _him_, I'd be knocking on his door for help _all _the damn time..."

The woman's partner snickered, nodding in enthusiastic agreement. "Did you see him jogging on the beach the other day? Oh my _God_, I thought my ovaries were going to explode!"

They laughed, assuming no one else heard what was said. They were sorely mistaken as they soon realized…

Brennan had been listening closely to the Agent that she'd once thought of as a rival, but now viewed as a valuable member of their team, even if only on a substitute basis. But the scientist's exceptional hearing was often underestimated since she usually chose to focus on the task at hand rather than listen to gossip, typically ignoring mutters and whispers, thus leading those around her to assume she didn't hear... At the voyeuristic comments about her partner, _her Booth_, however, she turned towards the women and deadpanned her cool eyes at them, wordlessly conveying her extreme disapproval of their not-so-private conversation.

Shrinking under the Anthropologist's hostile gaze, the Pennsylvania-based agents shifted uncomfortably in their seats, shooting sidelong glances at one another before sheepishly meeting Brennan's glare. Before they could formulate a silent rebuttal or fix their facial features in a mask of disinterest, they watched Booth lean sideways, successfully diverting the his partner's attention as he spoke to her.

Booth'd clearly heard the women behind him, but chose to ignore their conversation, having long ago learned to disregard comments about his physicality from those in whom he wasn't interested. However, when Brennan's head whipped around to appraise the commentators, he could practically feel the animosity rolling off her body. Listening distractedly as the debrief discussion volleyed to a different table and an unknown agent picked up on Perotta's dialog, modifying it to mesh with their own experiences, Booth gave Brennan a careful glance, barely containing his smirk.

"You, uh," he licked his lips as he leaned her way, "you ok, there, Bones?"

For a split second, Brennan considered ignoring her partner, detecting a touch of cocky humor in his husky whisper. Instead, she simply growled, low and threatening, as her jaw clenched.

"Hey," he leaned further, letting his shoulder press against hers, finally gaining her full attention. When her fiery blues turned towards him, he could nearly feel his blood start to boil with desire and he swallowed hard. "Don't worry about 'em, Bones." His gaze never wavered, his dark eyes seeking her focus.

"Did you hear what they said?" she hissed angrily through her teeth. "They basically intimated that the _sole _reason anyone comes to you for guidance is because your are physically appealing, indicating that your extensive experience is inconsequential."

"Ahh, c'mon, ignore 'em. Who cares what they think?" He shrugged in dismissal, recognizing an underlying argument she left unspoken. "They're just jealous because their AIC is a hardass who doesn't put up with any shit."

"You _know _them?" Her brow wrinkled, wondering why he hadn't interacted with the agents from that table if he was familiar with them already.

"Not personally, but I recognize a few of their counterparts, there at the table. And I know they report to Beverly Leeks." He cocked an eyebrow. "Beverly has been AIC for about fourteen years up in PA… Scared the shit outta me at the academy when she served as a substitute trainer, and word has it she is _always _like that." He winked, hoping to put his girl at ease.

"But," she pursed her lips, giving her an almost petulant look. "They were looking at you like you were a..." Her eyes flitted from Booth back to the women, who seemed to be watching their interaction with intense interest and she huffed, looking back at her partner, the accusatory look practically blaming _him_ for the attention he was garnering. "I don't like how they were looking at you…. Or what they said..." She raised her nose defiantly, daring him to challenge her observation of the ladies.

Booth smiled at the familiar 'v' that formed between Brennan's angry eyebrows. It took all his willpower to not reach out and smooth his thumb across her soft skin, erasing the doubt that was obviously plaguing her thoughts. He had to, instead, settle for his words. "I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks about me, Bones. There is only _one _opinion that matters, as far as I'm concerned." His dark irises held hers and the partners fell into one of their silent conversations, allowing the rest of the room to simply fade away.

Feeling slightly foolish at her jealous, knee-jerk reaction to the unknown agents, Brennan felt a warm blush slowly fill her cheeks as she allowed herself to get lost in her partner's soul-swallowing eyes. Booth had given her no indication that she needed to worry, and based on his confessions to her, he never would. But the scientist simply hadn't been quick enough to extinguish the metaphorical green monster from rearing its ugly, snarling head. Licking her lips self-consciously, Brennan allowed her attention to flick down to Booth's mouth briefly before looking back into his dark eyes.

"Sorry," she uttered quietly.

Booth grinned, his lips curling into a crooked grin. "Don't apologize." His volume was so low that he leaned even closer, ensuring she could hear his next statement. "It was kinda hot." His smirk curled upward and he pulled back a little. "Now you know how I feel every goddamn day, Bones, with the amount of guys who give you the once-over on a daily basis." He chuckled deeply as he sat back against his backrest, enjoying her shocked expression.

"But," she wanted to argue against _his _unfounded jealousy, given that they were not intimate until just the evening before, but she was interrupted when she heard their names called out by their therapist.

"Special Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan," Sweets walked across the stage to stand closer to their table when he noticed that they were not paying an iota of attention to the group discussion. "Would you care to share with your colleagues, what you each gained from your breakout exercise?"

"No," Brennan outright refused, her mulish expression fixed and unrelenting as she tipped her nose slightly upward.

Stifling a laugh at her blatant belligerence, Booth rolled his lips between his teeth before rescuing his partner from further scrutiny. "Yeah, sure," he interrupted, certain she was about to launch into a tirade dismantling the soft science that was driving this whole damn convention. Bumping her playfully with his elbow, he dropped his volume. "C'mon, Bones. We have to at least put up an _appearance_ of participation."

Raising her eyebrows at his outward willingness, Brennan's expression quickly morphed into a scowl as she hissed her response. "We _did_ participate, Booth! We moved our seats over there," she thrust her finger in the direction of their corner, as if he had forgotten. "_And_ we communicated _as instructed_." The little 'v' appeared again, making it clear that she was in no mood to talk to the group while simultaneously coping with the uncomfortable emotions of jealousy triggered by the women behind them.

He laughed and nodded, patting her hand where it rested on the table. "I know," he patronized her and moved his attention back to Sweets, quickly remembering that the entire room was watching them. "We _both_ agreed to exercise more caution when we're out in the field." When he saw Sweets take a measured breath, he knew that the boy was going to try to dig further, so he nipped that in the bud before the kid could question anything further. "That's about it."

Feeling suddenly impish towards her partner, Brennan cleared her throat and ignored the look of horror that Booth shot her way. "And, we discussed my need for a gun."

Booth's head whipped around and he pinned her with hard eyes. "You don't need-" he shifted his attention to Sweets, and by default to everyone else, "she don't need a gun, she's got me." His Philly accent became instantly apparent. Looking back at her, he flare his eyes as if to ask her if she had lost her mind. "The gun goes in first. _That's_ what we discussed."

Barely maintaining her serious expression in the face of Booth's exasperation, she simply looked at Sweets. "I should carry a firearm in order to perform my duty as Booth's partner, in case he needs my backup."

Knowing that this was a long-time argument between his patients, dating back even before he was plunged into the midst of their team, Sweets navigated the discussion with caution. "Dr. Brennan," he folded his hands and spoke evenly. "You and Agent Booth have one of the highest success rates ever recorded for a partnership of your duration. Why do you think that _now_, after all these years, you still need to carry a weapon?"

Deadpanning her stormy blues at the youth, she squared her shoulders. "So I can shoot people." She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table when she heard Booth's throaty groan.

"But, Dr. Brennan," Sweets was actually in agreement with Booth on this one, knowing that while Brennan was perfectly _capable _of handling firearms, she did not necessarily possess the appropriate temperament nor had she gone through the proper training to carry in the field.

"_Sometimes_," she interrupted him, all the impish humor having drained from her facial expression by then, "there are people who _deserve_ to be shot…or at the very least _warned..._ People who are resisting arrest, threatening Booth or myself..." She tilted her head in a nonchalant way. "Let's say there is even someone closer...someone who, I don't know, _betrayed_ so-called friends. People, who cannot be _trusted_." She felt Booth's wide hand cup her leg beneath the table cover and she understood he wanted her to stop. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she reaffixed her light-hearted mask, forcing a false smile. "There are all sorts of scenarios that would support my need for personal protection."

Booth immediately saw through the excuse his partner was giving Sweets, knowing instantly that if she was ever given the opportunity, she would hold a gun to the shrink's temple in retaliation for the little experiment he conducted on them years before. The agent knew that she would never _actually _inflict harm on their FBI-appointed doctor, but there was no doubt in his mind that she would indeed be successful in scaring him… _Hell_, watching her emotions ebb and flow so fluidly, _Booth_ even felt a little scared. Perhaps more importantly, however, he realized that if she ever got so far as to issue an empty threat to Sweets, they could kiss their professional partnership goodbye.

"Look," Booth interrupted the conversation, "me and Bones are just gunna both try to be more careful. That caution might come in a variety of forms, but nevertheless, we came to the decision _together_. If it's necessary, we'll discuss it in more depth at a later time. The two of us." He pinned Sweets with an unforgiving glare. "Now, can we just move on?"

The young doctor nodded, knowing that if he pushed any further it would likely cause more harm than good, so he conceded to the AIC's wish. "Yes, of course." Licking his lips, he concluded. "I am glad that you both found some benefit in the exercise." Before Brennan's objection to the team building workshop could be voiced, he quickly shifted his attention to another table, who seemed eager to lighten the tension in the room. "Yes, Agent Mahoney?" He address one of the most senior agents in the room.

"Yeah," Mahoney wanted to draw some of the heat off his younger comrade, sensing that Booth's infamous temper was nearly ready to make an appearance. While he had only just met Brennan for the first time, he'd always liked Booth and trusted that if the agent put such faith in the scientist as to stand by her for so long, there was something magical in their partnership. Besides, Mahoney never put much stock in the field of psychology, and he didn't like seeing his counterparts put under such scrutiny. "Me and Williams, here, we've been partnered for almost 20 years, so there wasn't a whole helluva lot to learn from this exercise, since we already know each other so well. _But _I did learn that he thinks I'm a better driver."

"What!?" Williams interrupted, sensing his friend's interjection of humor. "I never said that, I said you were a good _navigator _because your reaction time _sucks_."

"OH," Mahoney chuckled knowingly. Over the years, the two men had definitely settled into a comfortable routine when pursuing a suspect, and it was well known among their fellow agents that Williams _always _drove because Mahoney definitely didn't react as quickly as his partner. Mahoney's strength rested in his abilities to gain confessions from suspects, sometimes through questionable, _though never provable_, methods. "I must'a misunderstood our final resolution…" His broad grin held the attention of their neighboring tables, as those in the know started laughing and throwing friendly jabs their way. Mahoney and Williams accepted the attention, happily diverting it from the Hoover table long enough for Booth and Brennan to silently regain their balance.

After several more minutes, and once everyone had a chance to either discuss their own findings or contribute to those topics brought up by their fellow-agents, Sweets summarized some of the more interesting points and thanked the room for the enthusiastic participation. Andrew Simmons then approached the podium and gained the attention of his charges.

"Well, ladies and gents, I think I have the information that many of you have been waiting for…" He grinned at the now-familiar challenges and jeers surrounding the _friendly _competition. "_But_, before we post the results and lose your attention much as a middle school teacher loses the focus of her class before spring break," he grinned at the groans of disapproval, "just a recap for the upcoming afternoon. If you're scheduled for breakout sessions this afternoon, they will commence thirty minutes after the conclusion of this meeting." The screens on either side of the stage lit up with the locations of each meeting. "And finally, this evening, you're all invited to attend our Island Getaway themed dinner." He smiled as stock photos of tropical and exotic settings flashed up on the monitors, interspersed with images of mouth-watering cuisine.

"Tonight's party will take place on the patio overlooking the beach and is a casual affair. So, please, feel free to don your most comfortable island attire and enjoy the sounds of our steel-drum band, watch demonstrations by local artists or craft workers and browse their wares, which will be for sale at nominal prices. Our organization has conducted parties such as tonight's for several years, and they are always a great success. It's a wonderful way to support local artistic industry and a fun way to take home a handmade souvenir or two. Cocktail hour will begin at 6:00 sharp, and will be an open bar for ninety minutes, after which, it will continue as a cash-bar basis. Dinner will be served buffet style, starting at 7:30, and will consist of traditional island fare, both vegetarian and non-vegetarian, so everyone should find dishes to enjoy." As the attendees oohed and aahed at the colorful food choices flashing up on the screens, Simmons paused to review his notes.

"Alright, so, without further ado, I'd like to go ahead and update you all on the competition standings." He laughed, again, at the level of competitiveness on display by the array of personalities filling the room.

"In third place, a couple of agents who had been bumped from the standings after the first day, now make a reappearance. Agents Wagner and McCarthy, out of the Newark field office, creep back up towards the lead after falling from second to sixth place. They provided valuable and ample feedback during and after their breakout session while sharing excellent anecdotes pulled from their own experiences on the job to help relate the topic of their workshop to real-world examples. Congratulations, gentlemen." He paused for applause, happy to see that the room was, overall, very supportive of the change in standings once again.

"Our second place takers have not been in the upper standings since the onset of our Games. After forgoing their originally planned personal time, in favor of assisting a group of younger, newer agents, they spent yesterday afternoon sharing knowledge and giving insight from their portfolio of closed cases. The feedback we received from those who attended this impromptu workshop was amazing. Agents Mahoney and Williams, currently the most seasoned partnership still in active FBI field duty, charge into second place." He nodded at the men who'd willingly drawn attention to themselves during the group discussion just a short time before, and joined their colleagues in congratulations. "Nice job, guys."

"And finally," he glanced down at his notes again, noting the large spread in points separating first place from all the rest and arched an eyebrow. "After having a strong start, followed by a slight hiccup, Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan, from your DC field office, re-enter the first place spot in our competition. Yesterday, they were quite literally thrust into the spotlight when the facilitator of their scheduled breakout session asked them up on stage to answer a few questions, which quickly morphed into the entire meeting. They answered questions and responded to commentary with candor and openness, the kind of which we don't often see." He smiled at the partners, who sat quietly among their Hoover teammates as the room applauded their recapture of the front-running lead. "Congratulations, Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan."

The television screens lit up with the overall rankings of each partnership and the facilitator gave the group some time to read before moving on. After a few additional closing remarks, Simmons prepared to release the attendees to a thirty-minute break before the afternoon sessions commenced. "If you haven't already signed up for tomorrow's workshops, the registration desk will be open for the next hour, so please be sure to get your names onto the roster of your preferred session. We're all looking forward to seeing everyone for tonight's theme party." He smiled enthusiastically as the crowd started milling around, congratulating each other on successful standings or good talking points. "Thank you again, and have a great afternoon, everyone!"

**Postscript A/N**

**I hope you enjoyed. Please take a moment to review. Reviews are the force behind the JazzyMuse and keeps the creativity flowing! **

**My continued appreciation to so many of you who are finding my older stories and favoriting them. It's so heart-warming to think that folks are out there reading past pieces. I would love to hear what you think of them, as well! Hugs and Kisses to my fellow Bones FF writer, and TwitterPal, FaithInBones; she kindly had a direct hand, in many of these older works being located again, after mentioning them on her blog. If you haven't read her work, please, please, please, go! Read her work! She is probably the most prolific Bones FF writer currently weaving stories, and they always leave me feeling good! More importantly, she is a wonderful soul who deserves our support for her amazing collection of stories!**

**peace and love, my friends, **

**~jazzy **


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N Hello. Sorry for the delay. **

**Dislaimer - I don't own Bones or it's characters. I only own this idea and the original characters.**

"Ok, Bones," Booth spoke quietly, perfectly aware that four of his subordinates were following close behind. "Please promise to behave yourself in today's meeting. Huh?" His brow wrinkled as he pleaded with his partner. "I just wanna sit, observe, and then _leave_. Right?"

Her pale eyes flashed up at his, noting the seriousness in his expression. She nodded. "Yes, I understand." She bit her bottom lip, still feeling remorse for the previous day's session. "Booth, I-"

"Y'know what?" He extended his hand, spreading his fingers wide, instantly knowing where she was going. "Don't apologize, Bones. I know you didn't mean anything by it. Just," he shrugged one shoulder and placed his hand on her back again, ushering her forward, "just try an' be like a normal person and not take over, okay?"

She laughed, knowing Booth so well, she knew didn't mean to insult her. "I will do my best, Booth." She glanced over her shoulder at him as he directed her into a row of chairs. "But it's difficult for me to act _normal_, as you put it… You know as well as I do, that _I_ am extraordinary."

He barked a single, boisterous laugh, dropping his hand from her back as they moved through the narrow row towards the center. "Yeah, Bones. You're definitely _not_ normal." They sat side by side and he bumped your shoulder and dropped his volume again. "I guess that's just one of the reasons why I," he winked, "you know."

Feeling her cheeks blossom with warmth, Brennan knew instantly what he meant, recognizing the expression in his eyes and she had to force herself to look away, fearing she might lose her composure and crush her lips against his. "Yeah," her voice was husky as she avoided his gaze. "I think I know…" Before she could respond any further, Marcus Gray, who had chosen the chair directly in front of them, turned in his seat and grinned at Booth.

"So, you and your partner gonna take over again today, Booth?" He chuckled. "Or are you still so pissed that you're seeing red?"

"Look here, Gray," Booth leaned forward, pinning Marcus with a cold glare. "I'm not pissed about yesterday, but I'll tell ya what, I _am_ starting to get pretty damn tired of _you_. Now, I don't know what kinda game you're tryin' to play here, but whatever it is, you can just knock it the hell off. I know your _participation_ in yesterday's open discussion was intended to cause friction between me an' Bones, and now you're talking shit that you know nothin' about." He tilted his head to the side, still trying to figure out Marcus' angle as he sat back against his chair again. "How's about you just focus on making _your_ partnership with Reggie a little stronger and worry _less_ about ours, huh? Seems we're managing just fine _without_ your input."

Marcus winked playfully at Brennan. "Don't worry 'bout it, Doc. Most of us in the audience thought it was pretty damn hot when you put Booth in his place."

Creasing her brow, she glanced at Booth then back to Marcus. "I don't-"

Her trademark phrase was cut off when the speaker's voice bellowed over the speakers. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, welcome!" A bubbly woman stood center stage and smiled enthusiastically at the audience. "I'm so happy to see that we have a full house today." Once she had everyone's attention, she proceeded. "Today I'd like to talk to you about the power of positive thinking and its importance in reinforcing a successful partnership…"

Booth inhaled deeply and let his head fall against the wall behind his chair with a quiet sigh. Eying his partner sideways, he sensed that she, too, instantly found boredom in the afternoon's overly-hyper motivational speaker. Bumping her with his elbow, he leaned into her direction. "Hey," his whisper was just loud enough for her to hear. Meeting her pale eyes, he smiled softly. "_You_ know I'm not pissed, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, you told me that already and I believe you." She had no reason to doubt his sincerity regarding the previous day's afternoon in the spotlight. She knew her partner was upset when it happened, but she also knew Booth well enough to recognize that it was an ephemeral temper tantrum, and that once they talked it through, he would not hold a grudge towards her.

He grinned and nodded once, straightening his posture once again, forcing himself to pull back before he leaned even further to taste her sweet lips. "M-Kay, just wanted to make sure."

Brennan caught the flicker in his dark eyes as he glanced away, and she was certain he wanted to kiss her. At the mere thought of his strong, masculine lips moving over hers, she found herself swallowing thickly, suddenly overwrought with desire. Snapping her head forward, she made herself watch obscenely energetic woman on stage while stifling a knowing smile. She didn't dare look at him again, certain that if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop her mind from wandering back to the previous evening in his bed… and their early morning, also in his bed… and later in the morning, in her shower…

Watching from the corner of his eyes, barely hiding his desire, Booth instantly knew what she was thinking about as she smoothed her palms across the soft material of her capris. Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat, mentally berating his sexual appetite for wanting to drag her out of the conference hall and up to their room. He knew they'd have to learn how to control their newly released urges, otherwise one or both would likely combust.

B/B/B/B

The session turned out to be little more than a typical motivational speaker who spewed the usual canned speeches intended to, obviously, _motivate_ her audience, but instead resulted in contagious yawns and attendees with wandering minds. The seasoned attendees struggled to hide their indifference to the topics while the newest, greenest agents clung to every recycled anecdote, as if the woman on stage held the secret to life's greatest mysteries. When their ninety minutes were finally up, the agents in attendance breathed a sigh of relief and made a beeline for the double doors at the back of the hall.

"Wanna grab a snack down at the Tiki Hut, Bones?" Booth walked at her side, consciously keeping his hand to himself rather than claiming her lower back like he typically did. While the speaker was droning on and on about the 'power of positive thinking and its importance in maintaining a successful work environment', his thoughts had drifted to the night before and how it felt to _finally_ slide into his partner's warm body. Those visions had quickly morphed into reminders of their morning and the way she looked riding him in the wee hours, closely followed by memories of the delicious sounds that echoed richly within the confines of her bathroom when he took her against the shower wall before they managed to exit the room and make their way down to the meeting hall. His newly found familiarity of her body mixed with his masculine, deeply rooted desire to simply _mount _her as often as possible made for a dangerous combination and frankly, he was worried about touching his partner in public at that moment.

Brennan swiveled her cool eyes up to meet her partner's and searched his face, noting his tightly clenched jaw. Wondering if she had said or subconsciously done something to anger him during the session, she suddenly missed the feeling of his warm, assuring touch along her spine. Slowly, she bit her lower lip in thought.

"What?" Booth shrugged and creased his brow when he saw the way she was studying him. "I'm hungry. That's all…"

"Are you mad at me?"

Her question stumped him and he stopped in his tracks, ignoring the sea of agents that had to change course because of his halted motion. "Huh?" He searched her pale eyes and glanced down at her mouth, quickly diverting his gaze back up, away from temptation.

"I asked you-"

"No," he shook his head twice, as if trying to clear away cobwebs. "Bones, I heard what you said..." He held up his right hand. "I meant… why would you think that?"

"Oh," she sounded confused as she looked around at the passing crowd before turning back to him. "Well, you _look_ mad…" She pointed to his jaw. "You're clenching and un-clenching your temporomandibular joint…" She reached up and ran her fingers across the back of his neck, ignoring his flinch as he glanced at passers by for anyone who might notice the physical contact. "Your suboccipital muscles are showing clear evidence of tension and anxiety. And, although they are masked by your shirt, my familiarity with your acromial structure allows me to identify the tightness flexing in your deltoids," her deft fingers walked across his shoulders, "and…"

She stopped abruptly when Booth pulled back, as if he had been burned by her touch. When her brows wrinkled in concern, he huffed a gentle laugh and muttered, keeping his volume low. "Easy with the handsiness, huh, Bones?" He smirked when she rolled her eyes.

Ignoring his puritan embarrassment and his blushing ears, she dropped her gaze to his hands. "You keep making fists… Like this," she raised her own hands until they were level with his face, literally demonstrating his actions. "Typically these are signs that you are angry or agitated." Her eyebrow arched high towards her hairline. "So, using my knowledge of your physicality and kinesiological traits, I deduce that you must be angry with me." She felt a little pout pull at her lower lip. "Plus," she almost felt foolish drawing attention to his lack of contact, but figured it would speak to her abilities to read him. "You haven't touched me since we finished our group exercise and you ushered me into the back row of the meeting…" She inhaled slowly before launching into an in-depth analysis of the situation.

"I've come to the most obvious conclusion that your reluctance to rest your hand upon my lumbosacral region, a subconscious action which, over the course of our partnership, has become not only a means of directional guidance but also an outward sign of your typical alpha-male territorial ownership tendencies and non-verbal threat against an outsider's encroachment, is a direct manifestation of anger stemming from a social faux pas I must have committed. Thus far, however, I have been unable to ascertain exactly what I did…"

"Bones," he gripped her bicep lightly and directed her further to the side, away from eavesdropping ears of the milling agents socializing outside the conference hall. "I am not angry."

"But all of the standard indicators point towards-" She wrinkled her brow when he simply proceeded to interrupt her explanations of deductions.

"Look, I don't give a damn what the _standard_ indicators say… I'm not mad. Ok?" He eyed her from beneath a heavy brow, waiting for her acceptance.

"But, then, why…" She huffed in frustration. She had been certain, _and almost proud_, of her ability to have picked up on her partner's mood, even if she hadn't been able to pinpoint the cause yet.

"Bones-". He licked his lips and glanced around briefly, not seeing anyone close enough to be of concern, he took a half step closer and dropped his voice. "Baby," the moniker eked out without permission, but before he could catch himself, they were interrupted.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan!" Shaw approached the partners from behind Booth's position, unaware that she was interrupting a very personal conversation until her brain caught up with her ears and processed the tiny morsel of information that was revealed when her boss addressed his partner. She scrambled to recover, hoping that Booth didn't realize she had heard what he said. "Some of us are going to grab food out at the beachside Tiki. Would you like to join us?" She smiled, but felt it quickly falter when she saw the way Booth and Brennan schooled their expressions in perfect syncopation, an action she had learned meant that the partners suspected someone was obviously hiding something and the junior agent hoped she would be successful in hiding her new-found knowledge. "Umm," she shrugged. "I mean, if you didn't have plans already…" She tried backing her way out, now. "Which you probably do…y'know, seeing that you are both so highly sought after… Umm..." Her eyes darted to the side, but before she could find a reason to make a rapid exit from the situation, Booth saved her.

"Ah, yeah, sure, that'd be great, Shaw." He knew they were planning to eat down there anyway, so he couldn't very well say no to one of his agents if he and Brennan would be seen at the eatery anyway. "We'll meet you down there." He nodded, indicating that his subordinate was dismissed. "Save us a couple o' seats."

Happy to escape unscathed, Jenny Shaw simply nodded and turned in place, willing herself to walk away calmly, lest her hasty retreat give anything away to the partners that she knew some things were not as they appeared, as well as not to indicate anything was amiss to any possible onlookers.

They watched Shaw move away, each silently wondering how much the young woman had heard. Almost simultaneously, Booth's attention moved back to Brennan just as her pale gaze shifted to his. Stifling a smile, Booth looked down at his shoes and then back to his partner. "Well," he swallowed, flashing a sheepish grin. "Guess I'll keep my eyes and ears open for any new gossip…"

"Booth," she kept her volume low, watching other people move up and down the hallway, everyone seemingly engrossed in their own conversations. "Do you think…"

"Listen," he interrupted her again. "Don't sweat it, ok? Even if she did hear it, I really don't think that Shaw is the type to blab. But if she does say something," he shrugged, "we'll address it at that point." Seeing Brennan's head nod once in agreement, he let one side of his lips curl up. "I'm not mad, Bones." His eyes skipped across her pale features, admiring the pretty sun-kissed rosiness in her cheeks. "I'm just finding it increasingly difficult to not reach out and touch you the way I _want_ to touch you…"

Realization dawning on her, her eyebrows rose in time with her sharp inhalation. "Oh…" She felt a warm flush creep up her neck from somewhere across her chest as she grinned. Pushing her hands into her capri pockets, she tilted her head to the side and allowed herself to become distracted watching his tongue as it peeked out and licked his lower lip nervously. Grinning, she made her own confession. "Well, if it helps any, you should know that I would very much like to go upstairs and pick up where we left off this morning after our shower…"

"Oh, my God." Booth groaned while rolling his eyes and tugging her arm. "That does _not _help, Bones… C'mon." The agent resigned and gave in to the ever-present need to rest an open hand low on his partner's back (_Her lumbosacral region?_ he thought with a wrinkled brow of confusion, _what the fuck?_) as he ushered Brennan towards the doors that would lead them outside. "We're expected down at the Tiki. Let's go."

Brennan's lips tugged upward into a crooked smile as a feeling of satisfaction washed over her. She was relieved to know she hadn't unintentionally angered her partner and grateful that he was just as affected as she was by their newfound physicality and intimate knowledge of one another. Welcoming the warmth radiating from his wide palm as it pressed against the thin material of her shirt, the Anthropologist allowed her partner to steer her through the thinning crowd as they made their way out into the bright sunlight.

B/B/B/B

The agents who first reached the beach-side Tiki Hut pushed several small round tables together, creating ample seating to accommodate the expected number of attendees who would be joining the group. Shaw did her part by shifting people back and forth until she was sure the remaining two seats, intended for Booth and Brennan, would be together, so there was no chance of the partner's being forced to sit apart. She had noticed that Marcus Gray, who clearly had the full attention of Agent Perotta, still seemed enamored with Brennan. It frustrated the younger agent that the man wouldn't simply accept the apparent affections that were being made readily available to him by the perky blonde, rather than continuing his not-so-subtle pursuance of gaining Brennan's attention.

Genevieve Shaw had also picked up on some _unwelcome _vibes of interest from a female agent who seemed to be finding herself in Booth's presence a little too often for Shaw's liking. The young DC Agent had observed the woman speaking to Booth on the first night, at the opening gala. At the time she didn't think anything of it, because, much like many of the other attendees that evening, she'd been absorbed in listening to Brennan's dark tales of gruesome rituals and bodily deformations. As the conference had progressed, however, Shaw noticed that the Tampa-based agent always seemed to hover around Booth. It wasn't until earlier that morning when, during the breakout session that Shaw and Soto had attended, Shaw learned the woman's name was Juliet Heath. Heath had approached Shaw directly and introduced herself, under the thinly veiled pretense of learning whether or not Shaw had ever assisted Booth and Brennan in any investigations, and in turn, if she had any tips she could share from working alongside the best team on the force. The junior agent might not be as seasoned as her superior officers with regards to suspect interrogations, but she was _certainly _not stupid; she was far more astute to the goings on around her than many people suspected. And one thing of which she was _absolutely _certain was that Juliet Heath had interests in Booth _other _than his investigative methods.

When Heath approached the gathering of agents, she smiled sweetly at Shaw. "Hey there, Genevieve," she glanced around the congregating agents, noticing the two empty chairs at the far end. "Got room for one more?" She shrugged one shoulder. "My partner is on one of her perpetual diets and doesn't want to eat before tonight's party, so I'm on my own for lunch."

"Oh," Shaw knew that Heath just wanted to weasel her way into her boss's presence, but she didn't want to be rude. "Well, sure," she shoved her own chair in Heath's direction, indicating that she should squeeze into the arrangement at the opposite end of the table, which was, _quite conveniently_, where Marcus Gray was sitting. She smiled, proud of her own strategic move. "The more the merrier, Agent Heath!"

"Ahh," Heath waved off formality. "I told you, please call me Juliet, or Jules is fine, too."

"Oh, right, thanks!" Shaw pretended to forget, distracting herself with introducing the woman to the rest of the table, paying _careful _attention to ensure Marcus met the newcomer. "Everyone, this is Juliet Heath, from Tampa" she glanced at her Hoover teammates and to the surrogates who had taken to flocking to be near Booth, many of whom had gone to acedemy with him. "Juliet, this is," she swept her arm towards the group, "_everyone_..." She chuckled and motioned with her hands, indicating that everyone should proceed to introduce themselves. She was pleased to see Marcus' broad, undoubtedly charming smile greet the woman, recognizing it as a sign of interest, and she turned to find an empty chair to pull into the arrangement for herself. Spotting Booth and Brennan approaching, Shaw was quickly further distracted from the introductions, gaining the attention of her boss and directing them towards the two seats at the end of the table.

The topics of discussion were amicable and easy as a lunch of appetizer-sized dishes were shared amongst the small gathering. A few of the agents indicated an interest to know more about Booth's opposition to Brennan carrying a gun and tried to push the topic. The partners, however, successfully dodged the subject, declaring that they'd done enough talking and, instead, encouraged other agents to share various stories. The overall discussions eventually turned towards the plan for the evening, everyone seemingly anticipating the Tropical Island theme, theorizing what kinds of foods will be offered and types of crafters will be on display.

Brennan found herself enjoying the company of Shaw, Soto and various others with whom she was newly acquainted. Three times, she felt an undeniable sensation that she was being watched and swiveled her gaze around the tables, twice finding the eyes of Marcus Gray watching her intently while he appeared to be partaking in a different discussion at the far end of the gathering. The third time, however, she didn't catch anyone looking her way, and chalked it up to paranoia, something she silently decided she'd discuss with Booth at a later time; it was probably his fault that she was experiencing these phantom feelings.

For his part, Booth remained active in the various conversations that were volleying around the group, enjoying the afternoon and the simple reconnections with counterparts he hadn't had the opportunity to see for years. Many of the agents gathered around their tables were either active teammates at the Hoover or former academy classmates. Sweeping his eyes towards the opposite side of the Tiki, he noticed another gathering of younger agents, presumably who'd attended the academy together, and also appeared to be enjoying the camaraderie afforded by their free time. As he brought his attention back to his table, he looked at Brennan and smiled. She was actively engaged in a conversation with an investigator from Georgia, defending the position of scientists in the field, not just in the lab, and from what Booth could hear, she was definitely holding her own, using examples to back up her stance. Turning his attention to Thompson, who was sitting on his other side, he picked up snippets of a sports recap, which definitely drew his full attention and he threw himself into that debate, quickly siding with the team opposing Thompson's pick.

After nearly two hours of snacking and drinking beachside, Brennan's warm hand rested on Booth's shoulder, gaining his attention. He leaned close to ensure he could hear her. "I need to go have another video conference with Clark. I promised to follow up with him after he'd had time to review the material I'd provided regarding his victim's medical condition."

Booth nodded. "Yeah, alright. Want me to go up with you?" He barely hid the smirk that was threatening to break free, hinting at what would happen the moment he had her alone in the room.

"It's not necessary, Booth," she saw through his offer, instinctively knowing that he'd be all-hands the second the door closed. "I really _do _need to speak with Clark. I want to ensure that he didn't run into any other issues… especially if this case develops into something more complicated, into which I need to be brought."

Recognizing her need to control a situation not currently under her thumb, Booth simply nodded in understanding. Extracting his wallet, he pulled her key from its spot. "Ok. I'll give you space." He winked conspiratorially before handing her the keycard. "But not _too _much."

Stifling a laugh, Brennan stood, palming her phone and the key. "I'll keep that in mind," she muttered, hoping their playful interaction didn't give anything away to onlookers. She turned and bid a good afternoon to the agents around the table, thanking them for the invigorating discussions and made her exit.

Marcus, who had watched the partners closely, was certain there was more than met the eye. Wondering where the anthropologist was off to, he jerked his chin at Booth, baiting him. "Whatcha do, piss her off again, Booth?"

Taking a slow draw from his glass, Booth grinned as he swallowed. "No, Gray, I did not piss her off." Silently, Booth vowed to not let his former-partner get to him… There was no question in Booth's mind that he and Brennan were solid and he wasn't about to let some jealous pissant get his goat. "She's gotta call the lab; she has business she needs to see to."

"_Business_?" Thompson refilled his iced tea from the pitcher. "She's off work, she oughtta take advantage of it!" He laughed as another agent tipped his glass in agreement.

"Yeah, you don't know Bones too well," Booth joked. "She doesn't really take time off… Hell, her idea of a fun vacation is going to some foreign country and digging up ancient graves in hopes of finding the missing link." He grinned at Shaw. "The first couple years that we were partners I told her Christmas and skeletons don't go together, but she promptly put me in my place."

The group slowly started to disperse, everyone wanting to take some personal time before getting ready for the group dinner. Before long, it was only Marcus and Booth left at the table, finishing their drinks. Marcus moved down towards Booth's end of the table, looking out at the beach alongside his former partner and friend. Booth knew Gray had questions, but he wasn't about to initiate the discussion, nor did he plan to give any fodder to the fire. He knew Gray was interested in Brennan for nothing more than a one night stand, as was his typical style, and more-so, he wasn't so sure he could trust the man with any sort of confidential information. The DC Agent maintained his silence, looking out at the beachgoers while finishing his drink and the last few fries that remained on Brennan's dish, as he waited for Marcus to break the stalemate. He didn't have to wait long.

"So, c'mon, Booth. What's the deal?" Marcus decided the direct route would be the best way to find out Booth's true relationship with his partner. Trying to play it cool, he drank his own beverage and watched a group of teens playing volleyball. "You and Tempe, you together?"

Creasing his brow, Booth cocked his head sideways and glanced quickly at Marcus. "She give you the all-clear to call her _Tempe_?" He knew she hadn't, but was amused that Gray would be so bold as to give himself the permission.

Shifting in his seat, Gray glared at Booth before wrenching his attention back out towards the beach. "No. Not specifically… but I heard Mitchell call her Tempe, so I figured she'd chilled out a bit since that first evening."

"Nope." Booth grinned, still avoiding eye contact as he looked around. "If she hasn't given you the expressed permission, you'll only piss her off if she hears you…" Finally turning to face his former pal, he grinned, the smile clearly _not _reaching his eyes. "And if there's one person you don't wanna piss off, it's Dr. Temperance Brennan. She worked hard for her title, she values it... _immensely_."

"You're avoiding my question, Booth." Marcus recognized Booth's evasion tactic and wasn't about to let him worm his way out of answering. "What's the deal with you two? I mean, for real… Rumor has it you're sharing a room…"

"Really?" Booth challenged Marcus. "Is that the rumor? That we're sharing a room?" He raised an eyebrow and pinned his counterpart with a deadpan stare. "Because I'll tell you what, any one of these agents here, worth the salt of their title, can call reception and ask for either one of us and I can guarantee that they'll be connected to two separate rooms… So the next time you hear that rumor, why don't you be the smart one of the crew and suggest it? Teach 'em a thing or two, huh?"

"Booth," he met the dark eyes with his own. "We _saw _you two when we bumped into you by the boardwalk the other night… I saw you kiss her, I saw her take your hand…"

"Yeah, I kissed her temple. I know exactly what you're talking about, Marcus." He wadded up his napkin and dropped it onto his empty plate. "And the circumstances leading up to that friendly show of affection is none of your business. Just like the rest of our relationship is none of your business." He shifted forward in his seat, resting his arms on his knees and glared at Marcus. "Tell me, Gray, why are you so damn interested? I think she made it pretty clear that she wasn't interested in invitin' you to her bed, but you keep pursuing it. What's your game?"

"Look, man, it's just…" He licked his lips, looking back at the ocean before meeting Booth's gaze again. "If she's with you, I'll lay off. But if she's not, then," he shrugged, a cocky expression washing over his face, "I see it as a, kinda challenge…"

Booth's expression turned hard, his forced easygoing demeanor immediately morphing into an angry alpha-male posturing. "Marcus," he stood up, positioning himself close enough that Gray couldn't stand up easily. "Listen here, _you immature horndog_," he bent at his waist and placed his hands on the arms of Gray's chair, going face to face with him. "Bones' personal life is _none _of _your _Goddamn business. Who she does and does not date is of no consequence to you. She isn't _interested _in _you_. _Period_." He shoved upright, squaring his shoulders as he looked down at the man. "And the sooner you accept that the better." He scanned the man's face and recognized a streak of nervous fear. "I'd hoped that you would have seen her as the valuable asset she is, and _respected _her as a counterpart in the field. She might not be an agent, but she is an _excellent _partner, the best I've ever had, present company included. And it's a damn poor reflection on you and your existence that you can't get your mind outta your pants long enough to recognize her value as a human being, _not _as a potential notch in your fuckin' bedpost." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Y'know, on that first night, when we bumped into each other in the lobby bar, I was real happy to see you, Marcus. I was hoping that we could catch up, share some camaraderie, we could meet each other's partners…. I didn't think I'd have to beat you off'a my partner with a freakin' stick…"

"Alright, Booth," Marcus pushed to his feet, gaining height over Booth. "I'll back off, man. But don't act like you've never tried getting some at a convention. You forget how many we have attended together."

"Yeah," Booth's eyes narrowed. "That was more than ten goddamn years ago, Gray. Time to fuckin' grow up. If you wanna get into someone's pants, pursue somebody giving off interested vibes, don't chase a woman who's clearly _not _interested."

Marcus chewed the inside of his lip, knowing Booth was right, but unwilling to admit aloud that he had failed to attract the one woman who really held his attention. Marcus Gray was not used to being turned down; he was a successful, handsome man and typically had women eating out of his hand by the close of their first meeting. Brennan had intrigued him from the onset, not only with her beauty, but with her elusive and aloof temperament… He had truly viewed her as a challenge, but there was nothing but truth in what Booth was saying. The anthropologist may not have attended the academy or rose through the ranks of the FBI in the traditional way, but she was, without a doubt, an effective partner to Booth; the evidence of their solve rate was proof enough.

Taking a deep breath, Gray loosened his stance and nodded. "You're right, Booth. I'm sorry." Seeing Booth's reaction was guarded, at best, he endeavored to put his former partner at ease. "She is obviously a good partner, anyone can see that. And yeah, I should, and will, back off." He looked down at Booth, noting that his friend looked a little less anxious, but still somewhat reluctant to accept his apology. "Look, I'm sorry, man. She obviously means a lot to you, regardless of the nature of your relationship. I hope," he shrugged one shoulder. "I hope that I didn't make things too uncomfortable for you… or for her. But I'll lay off."

"I appreciate that." Booth's dark eyes were unblinking. "She will, too." He extended a hand, hoping that Marcus would hold true to his word. "She's smart and she's funny and, yes, she's beautiful. But she deserves respect."

Marcus nodded and shook Booth's hand, noting that although the DC Agent was shorter than he, his hand was much larger, like a mitt compared to his own. "I guess I'll see you guys later."

"Yep," Booth nodded and backed away. "We'll see ya at the dinner." He paused and rolled his eyes. "Island themed clothing and all, I suppose." The men both laughed as they parted ways, Marcus feeling duly disciplined and Booth feeling that his actions were justified.

**Postscript A/N **

**Thank you for reading. **

**peace &amp; love,**

**~jazzy**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N Welcome back! **

**No, I didn't abandon this story, I promise. I wrote this chapter four (yes 4!) times until I settled on this version… Folk musicians, who are well known for tuning their instruments between each and every song, will often quip, '**_**I tune because I care**_**.' Well, my dear readers, while I know I often miss errors here and there, please know that I edit (and rewrite as I see necessary) because I care, not because I want to make you wait a month between postings... I hope this turned out OK. **

**Disclaimer: No… I don't own Bones. I think we all know what would happen if I did own them because I've said it before… There would be lots of naughtiness and they would **_**certainly **_**not be on Fox… They'd be on HBO. **

**Heh heh**

Booth entered his room and smiled as Brennan's distinctive alto chuckle reached his ears. He paused just inside the door and listened, knowing his presence hadn't yet been detected. His partner was still engaged in a video chat with the lab and from the sounds of it, they were finished discussing the case and now it appeared that Brennan was navigating her way through a landmine-riddled game of Twenty-_Sexual-Innuendo_-Questions from Angela.

"Ange," Brennan rolled her eyes at her friend's constant habit of snooping. "It was a very nice date. His friends are really fun." She was working hard to avoid answering Angela's main question as to whether or not she and Booth had 'done the deed,' as the artist put it. "And after dinner, we all went to a jazz lounge for drinks."

"Annnnd?"

"And...we danced."

"Bren," Angela deadpanned.

"Oh, yes. We also agreed to visit Jean and Mickey when we go down to see Russ this summer. They invited us to their home for dinner."

Quickly picking up on the fact that Brennan said 'we agreed', Angela smiled. "So you _and_ Booth are going to go visit Russ, hmm?"

"Well, I," the scientist knew she was caught, but feared giving away anything more. "Of course Booth is welcome to come along… I mean, Mickey and Jeannie are _his_ friends, not really mine, even though we got along quite well…" She squared her shoulders. "I don't think it would be polite for me to accept an invitation without Booth being present…"

"Mm-hmm…" Angela raised a disbelieving eyebrow and said nothing more, knowing her socially awkward best friend was a horrible liar and an even less-successful sneak.

"I'm serious, Angela. How do you think Hodgins would like it if you accepted an invitation from one of his friends, but didn't expect him to come along?"

"He probably wouldn't like it at all... He'd want to go along…" She answered simply, still waiting for Brennan's little cup of withheld information to go toppling over, spilling the rest of her closely-protected secret beans.

"Well, then, you should understand that the only _suitable _response was to accept the invitation for both of us…"

"Hodgins and I are married, Sweetie. You can't use us as a comparison…"

"What?" Brennan's forehead wrinkled. "No, your logic is faulty, you being married has nothing to do with it…"

Sensing his partner was dangerously close to inadvertently revealing a bit too much at this point in their relationship, Booth decided to make his re-entry known. He opened his door again and let it fall closed with a loud click as he called out to her through the open adjoining doors.

"Hey, Bones! I'm back."

Schooling her expression, Brennan flared her eyes at her friend's image on the monitor and spoke through clenched teeth, her voice just loud enough that Angela could hear. "Stop asking too many questions." Then she glanced up to where Booth was just poking his head through. "Hi, Booth." She couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "I'm just about done on my call."

"Yeah, ok," he stepped into the room and over towards the head of the bed, where she was sitting lotus style with the laptop directly in front of her. "Hi, Angela." He smiled into the camera and plopped himself down next to his partner, adjusting the pillow to support his back against the headboard. "How's it goin'?"

"Oh, you know," Angela grinned, seeing her best friend's cheeks grow pink once Special Agent Studly entered her room. "Got a real humdinger of a case… It's a good thing we can chat with Bren, poor Clark was at a loss."

Booth nodded and bumped his partner's shoulder with his. "Barely away for two days and they're already floundering, huh, Bones?"

With a familiar crease forming between her brows, Brennan wrinkled her nose. "Booth, the case they're working has nothing to do with fish. Why would you say that?"

"It's just a saying, Bones." He laughed as Angela failed to stifle her own chuckle.

"It's a fascinating case, Booth," the artist interjected. "You wanna hear about-"

"Nope," he reached to the screen, looking at Angela while talking to Bones with an impish smile. "Now, say goodbye."

"What? No, wait..." Brennan shook her head and laughed at his boldness. "You were not even part of this conversation… What makes you think we are done, Booth…?"

Booth looked behind Angela and saw that Clark was already working on his own up on the platform. "You're done," he smirked at Brennan. "See? Clark is busy and Angela is just being nosy. So, say goodbye." He slowly lowered the screen, knowing it would end the call.

Ducking down so she could still see Angela's chuckling image on the screen, Brennan spoke fast, recognizing the heated look in Booth's eyes. "Ange, text me if you need anything else. Tell Clark to email his findings to me and I'll review them before he submits them to the FBI. I'll keep my phone on…"

And by then the call was ended, courtesy of Booth's not-so-subtle insistence. She turned and looked at him with questions in her eyes, quickly receiving an unspoken answer as he leaned towards her and covered her mouth with his. Pushing the laptop carefully out of the way, Brennan let her partner's sure touch coax her onto her back as his kiss grew hungrier.

Booth groaned in appreciation of her compliance and he slid down from his seated position until he was covering her body. His mouth traveled from her mouth to her throat, where he paid special attention, drawing tiny mews and sighs from his partner. Shifting, he slid one of his legs between her thighs, and pressed his knee against her core, instantly feeling her heat radiating through her capris.

When she felt his thick leg pressing against her, Brennan immediately started to move her hips, anticipating what she knew would be a delicious outcome. Tugging at his shirt, she managed to pull it halfway up his back, so her fingers could sweep across the masculine skin it kept hidden from her. He quickly pulled back, however, causing her to pout at the loss of contact.

Booth chuckled and winked when he looked down at her frown. "Relax, baby." He reached behind his neck and grabbed the shirt, pulling it up and over his head before dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Lowering himself back down to his elbows, he cradled her head and nuzzled against her cheek, shivering at the ghost-like touches her fingers made against his sides. "Christ, Bones, I love the way you smell," he muttered as he closed his lips around her earlobe and suckled.

Brennan smiled. She loved knowing that she had the ability to draw such sentiments from her very strong, _very alpha-male_ agent. The scientist had never cared much for romantic proclamations, but she found that after spending so many years at Booth's side, her rigid beliefs had definitely loosened up. She suspected that since they were now together, she would find herself utterly susceptible to the legendary Booth-charm on an all new level. And secretly, she reveled in the possibilities.

Booth smiled in cocky satisfaction when his partner craned her head to the side, giving him better access to her throat, though she was oblivious to his smugness. When she hummed at the gentle scrape of his teeth, he filed her reaction into the ever-growing _Bones-filing-cabinet_ in the back of his mind, determined to coax the sound from her as often as possible. Her simple acceptance of his dominance was like fuel to an already-smoldering kiln and he growled in primal aggression, pressing his knee even further against her core. The agent would never admit it to Brennan, but the discussion he had with Marcus after the rest of the lunch group had dispersed, in which he warned Marcus to back off in no uncertain terms, had clearly triggered a primal urge to claim her as his. He knew that if he verbalized his inner desires, no matter how deeply rooted they were in his basic male DNA makeup, she could easily kick his ass.

Desperate to feel more of her, Booth sat up once again, resting on his knees. He instantly focused on the tiny pearlescent buttons of Brennan's pale colored blouse and began unfastening them from the bottom. His handsy partner distracted him easily, her own nimble fingers making quick work of the button and zipper of his casual cargo shorts and slipping inside, searching for her prize.

"Ungh," Booth's movements stilled the instant her slim hand made contact through the thin material of his boxer briefs. His head dropped back as he gulped a breath, trying to maintain some control as his partner continued to grind against his knee while running her fingers along the outline of his length. The agent's mind, however, went completely blank as all blood flow headed south.

Brennan's mouth curled at one side as her tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip. She and Booth had only been together since the previous evening, but already the scientist knew she was addicted to watching her partner receive the pleasure she was intent on giving to him. She studied him as he unseeingly looked up at the ceiling and clenched his jaw, inhaling through flared nostrils. Her eyes focused on the prominent bob of his adam's apple when he swallowed in response to her fingers as they flexed around his considerable girth as much as she could through the barrier of his underwear.

Regaining a somewhat conscious stream of thought, Booth grunted and grabbed her arm, wrapping his thick fingers around her delicate wrist. He tugged gently, but with determination, extracting her roaming phalanges from the depths of his shorts as his other hand captured its counterpart before she impishly snuck that hand into his pants. Pulling her arms up, he pinned both against the pillow above her head, securing them with his left palm.

Brennan quivered, her body involuntarily reacting to the sheer power she witnessed as her partner loomed above her. Booth's bare chest labored as he tried to control his breathing, and the thick, ropy muscles of his neck were bulging as his eyes swept across her not-yet-exposed torso. She could see his barely contained tension, and while she instinctively knew he was the type to keep that power under close control, she hoped to one day be the one to cause his tightly coiled spring to finally pop. As she watched, her own breathing pattern erratic, she felt his fingers return to their previous task as he finished opening her blouse to his dark, hungry gaze.

Booth couldn't stop the groan from escaping his throat when he saw she was wearing a front-closure bra. The pale pink lace cups were a perfect compliment to her porcelain skin and as his eyes skimmed the scalloped edges of her lingerie and the way it held her breasts in check, his mouth watered with anticipation. She was practically spilling over the lacy material and, while maintaining his hold of her hands against the pillow, he brought his other hand up, brushing the backs of his fingers against her soft skin, tracing the edge of the bra.

With a gentle curl of his lip, his eyes flashed up to her's, meeting her pale blues just as his thumb and forefinger rested against the clip nestled in her cleavage. Silently, watching her reaction, he pinched the closure and let it pop open, the cups now held in place only by the flesh that filled them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Seeley Booth was reeling in disbelief at what he was actually doing… He was _really_ towering over his partner's prone body… In her bed… Ready to remove the final piece of clothing keeping him from seeing her upper body in all its glory…

_And _all his senses reminded him that he was _not_ dreaming. The harsh light of day was _not_ threatening to wake him, cruelly dragging him into consciousness from a blissful sleep featuring his beautiful partner… Booth had lost count years ago of how many times he woke, dreamy visions of Brennan drifting through his mind and haunting him throughout the day. It seemed that whenever he'd dreamt of his genius scientist over the larger part of the past decade, his nighttime fantasies would follow him clear through to the following sleep, when, once again, his imagination filled in the blanks and he happily lost himself in her sweet scent and silky softness.

Slowly, Booth released his grip on her wrists and ran his fingers down the underside of one arm as he raised himself up to his knees, still holding her gaze. When his partner emitted a tiny whimper, seemingly involuntarily, he smiled gently and tilted his head, dragging a single fingertip over the inviting swell of her breast until both right and left met in her tempting valley.

Brennan fisted the pillow above her head and gave a tiny nod of permission, recognizing Booth's expression as waiting for her consent. Watching his eyes darken with unspoken desire, she exhaled slowly as he diverted his gaze down to where his hands hovered. The anthropologist could practically feel the sexual power radiating from her partner, his strong jaw ticking as he pinched the silky material between his forefingers and thumbs.

Ramping up his anticipation as much as teasing Brennan, Booth started to peel the soft material away, his slow pace almost painful for both of them. Centimeter by centimeter, more of her creamy skin was revealed to his hungry focus and he groaned. "Jesus, Bones..." His calloused fingers traced the mouthwatering swells of her breasts before his thumbs stretched and swept across her hardening nipples, drawing a quiet gasp from her throat. Dropping to his elbows, he cradled her head, growling against her temple at the sensation of their bare torsos pressing together. "You're so..." He grunted, momentarily incapable of putting his thoughts into words. "Just…" His mouth assaulted her jawline, opting to show her since he couldn't seem to find the words to tell her.

When she lowered her arms from where they hugged the pillow above her head, Brennan hummed while reaching around his broad shoulders and pulling him down. Feeling his leg still pressed against the apex of her thighs, the scientist's hips moved, almost of their own volition, desperate for friction, yearning for more.

Turning her head, their mouths met instantly, as if they'd been locked in similar embraces for years rather than mere hours. Their bodies were so innately in tune with one another that their movements were fluid and effortless as they deepened their newfound familiarity. She parted her lips at Booth's not-so-subtle insistence once the tip of his tongue started probing. When she finally tasted him again, the metaphorical butterflies in her abdomen erupted and her fingers intensified their grip on his shoulders, pressing firmly into his muscles and pulling him further into their embrace.

Booth growled, one hand cupping her breast as his other swept down to her thigh, hiking it further up to his waist until she took it upon herself to loop it around his back. Thrusting his hips forward, he pressed his growing erection against his partner's body, ensuring that she understood exactly how desperately he wanted her. When a little, surprised-sounding sigh escaped her throat, Booth smiled into their kiss, swallowing her reaction with cocky pleasure. After only a few moments more, he slid his hands between their bodies, searching blindly for the button of her capris.

As his fingers danced along the waistline of her pants, tickling her gently, Brennan moved her mouth, following the strong line of his jaw until she reached his earlobe, where she nipped playfully. She felt his success when her zipper was lowered immediately after the button popped open and she laughed breathlessly in relief, her warm breath against his wet skin sending shivers through his rigid body.

"Now I know why you were so anxious to end my conversation with Angela…" Her fingers released his shoulders only because he tugged backwards, effortlessly pulling her bottoms down as he moved. Her pale eyes followed his movements and met his arrogant smile with a crooked, knowing grin of her own.

Booth chuckled and feigned shock. "_What_? You think I had this planned?" He licked his lips and winked playfully. "How was I supposed to know you were gunna jump me?" His thick, calloused forefinger traced the lacy edge of her panties.

Thankful that they could still banter in good humor, she cocked an eyebrow at his mock surprise. "Oh, _I _jumped _you_? Is that was this is?" She pointed to her current state of near nudity versus his still mostly clothed status. "It appears to me that it's the other way around…"

"Oh yeah?" His eyes moved from her face and skimmed down to the pale pink undergarment. "Well, then," he hooked his finger into the elastic band and flashed a crooked, challenging smile at her. "If you feel disproportionately underdressed in the current arrangement, I'd suggest you find a way to remedy the situation..." He tugged her panties down, smoothing them over her hips as he met her heated gaze. "But you better hurry, 'cause I'll tell ya what, I'm gonna be busy here in a second…"

Quickly, the reached down, trying to grab the waistband of her partner's shorts, but she was unsuccessful as he maneuvered just far enough way, snickering at her failed efforts. "Booth!" She half laughed, half whined, her exasperation at his evasive tactical abilities evident.

"Mmm," Booth ignored her plea as his wolfish gaze traveled up her legs until he could take in her naked body, spread out before him for his viewing pleasure. He wrapped his hands around her ankles when his eyes finally reached her pale observation and he grunted, feeling an undeniable tug starting at the base of his spine and moving clear through his body.

Booth's predatory expression caused Brennan to shudder, momentarily rendering the loquacious scientist unable to speak. She swallowed thickly, her breath catching in her throat as his calloused hands smoothed up her legs until they palmed her thighs and he nudged them open. His intense, dark chocolate irises held her own and when he loomed above her once again, she found the will to move. Reaching up and cradling his jaw, she pulled his face down to hers, opening her mouth to him before their lips even met. She felt his right hand release her leg and before her brilliant brain could even process his shifting touch, the backs of his knuckles were brushing against her throbbing folds, the mere ghost of a touch forcing yet another whimper from her throat.

Booth swallowed his partner's moan, certain it was the sexiest sound he'd ever heard. Their tongues swept against one another's and he pulled back slowly, trapping her bottom lip between his teeth gently. With a feral growl, the agent wiggled his fingers, spreading the moisture that was teasing him without mercy.

"Booth," she whispered as he pulled further away, her need evident in her heady voice. Booth's strong, masculine lips tugged again with smug satisfaction as he moved down her body, pausing to suck her nipple into his mouth. Brennan's fingers speared into his hair, holding him steady, not wanting him to lose his focus too soon.

"Ahh…" She let her sigh fade into the otherwise silent room, wanting nothing more than to get lost in the amazing sensations being created by her very own knight in shining FBI armor. The scientist's head was spinning (_metaphorically, of course_) and she entertained no doubts that if she wasn't already laying prone on the bed, the exhilaration coursing through her body would certainly drop her to her knees.

"Mmm," Booth hummed against her body. The feeling of her pebbled peak rolling against his tongue sent his imagination into overdrive as he mused silently about how many times over the course of nearly a decade he'd pictured this very scene happening. His dreams, however, whether they occurred in the bright light of day or late, in the inky darkness of night, paled in comparison to the real-life, flesh-and-bone Temperance Brennan. Everything about his favorite nerd was spectacular, mesmerizing even. His senses were assaulted with all things Brennan… The silkiness of her skin beneath his fingertips, her sweet scent filling his nostrils, the delicious flavor of her body as his tongue smoothed across her breast… And the sounds filling his ears...he couldn't even begin to comprehend the deep, primal level of his instincts that her verbal responses spoke to. Wanting more, he released his suction and placed open kisses down her torso as he moved.

Brennan couldn't concentrate. The wake of Booth's ministrations consumed her entire thought process, not to mention the reactions he was pulling from her compliant body. Ultimately, the anthropologist simply closed her eyes and surrendered to his skillful manipulation of her entire being, no longer concerned with monitoring her thoughts or filtering her words. She let the euphoria of her partner's touch wash over her; shivers, shudders and vibrations wracked her body non-stop until all she could hear was her own blood pumping through her ears, accompanied by the hums and murmurs he mumbled against her heated skin. When she felt the breadth of his shoulders nudge her thighs further apart, she groaned, knowing what he was planning.

Booth was convinced that he was addicted… It's true he already possessed the strong, inherited genetic tendencies towards addiction, thanks to his father, but this addiction was different from any of the others with which he'd ever been plagued. Somewhere in his subconscious, he knew this particular one could be far more dangerous to his health if things between Brennan and himself ever turned to shit. She was his drug, his blackjack table, his bourbon… She was his confidant as well as his self-confidence, his best friend and, along with Parker, the only other indication in his life that he had done something right, somewhere. And in the back of his mind, deep in his gut, he knew that if he lost her, now that he'd had her, he would be left broken beyond repair. The woman beneath his fingers, beneath his mouth, held so much power over him that he should've been scared, but he wasn't… He trusted her completely, blindly, knowing that she would never mislead him or use him; she was in just as deep as he was, and that made him fall even harder.

His mouth came to rest just below her bellybutton and his fingers continued to tease her, skimming her outer folds and dipping down lower, just enough to collect her nectar and spread it. With a gentle kiss to her skin, he raised his dark eyes, watching as her lithe body strained. Her neck was arched and her own hands palmed her bare breasts, the shirt still on, but laying open. Moving his thick fingers as he continued watching her, he parted her soft petals and found the little bundle of nerves that, less than 24 hours before, he could only dream about.

"Bones," he whispered, letting his chin rub against the upper edge of her mound as his forefinger circled her quickly-hardening clit.

"Huu," she breathed, swallowing hard as she anticipated where his hand would move next.

"Baby," one side of his lips curled as his finger slid lower, aiming towards where he knew she wanted it. "Open your eyes. Look at me."

After gulping a deep breath, her eyelid flew open as she raised her head from the pillow to find his gaze.

Booth paused his movements, studying her expression, the pink flush filling her cheeks and the way her pale blues had darkened a couple shades. When she sucked her lower lip between her teeth, her questioning eyes practically begging him, he smiled and pushed his first two fingers against her core, his distal phalanxes just barely entering her heat.

"Beautiful..." His voice was husky, his compliment full of reverence. Their eyes locked as he pressed into her completely and lowered his mouth, his lips instantly suckling against her clitoris.

Brennan's head fell back into the soft pillow as she gasped breathlessly. Rolling her hips, she encouraged more contact from her partner. "Oh, god, Booth…"

The agent made love to his partner with his mouth, his pace languorous and his attention undivided. Bringing Brennan to the edge before easing her back down, only to ramp her up again, Booth continued to tease her on a seemingly unending loop of peaks and valleys.

After what felt like hours, though it was, in reality, less than thirty-five minutes, Brennan felt like her body was on fire. Scorching heat blazed trails that started at her core and worked its way outward, radiating through her extremities until she didn't think she could stand it any longer.

"Booth," she whimpered with unapologetic need. "_Please…_". Her fingernails clawed at the bedspread, threatening to shred it with pent-up angst.

He grinned against her, completely in love with everything about his partner. Turning his hand, his fingers pressed upward, immediately finding her g-spot and increasing the pressure against it as he continued to tongue her. It took mere seconds for her muscles to start fluttering, the tell-tale signal that she was about to spiral out of control courtesy of what he'd done. In the back of his mind, that arrogant alpha-male personality that she was always criticizing was giving a little fist pump that he was able to render his talkative, squinty partner into a whimpering pile of goo, begging him for release. He sucked hard, nipping gently with his teeth and found his mouth suddenly flooded with her sweet juice as she exploded.

Brennan felt herself careen out of control, her body reacting by pure instinct to the intimate manipulations of her talented partner. She was unable to control her verbal responses, regardless of the fact that she was undoubtedly loud. She gasped, inhaled sharply and squealed in a very, _very_ un-Brennan-like manner. In her sexual experience, the scientist had often been a vocal lover in that she had no qualms about directing a man to do what she wanted in order to reach that desired plateau. But she had quickly ascertained that she had to give very little direction to Booth… It was as if he knew her body as well as she did. Even during that first orgasm, which he'd practically ripped from her body while pinning her against the wall of his hotel room, she found that he seemed to know instinctively how to touch her, how to kiss her, and hell, even how to talk to her, to bring her to that ultimate level.

It was both terrifying and exhilarating to the independent anthropologist to experience such intimate knowledge in a sexual partner so soon after exploring the possibilities of a relationship. The night before, however, when they'd officially obliterated that blasted line that had been keeping them apart for years, she knew her unquestioning trust in him was firmly set in evidential proof, and she felt free in a way that she'd never experienced in any of her previous casual relationships. In those dark hours when he entered her for the first time, his powerful body looming above her, Booth had dropped to his elbows and cradled her head lovingly, pulling her face into his neck as her lips searched for satiation against his skin. He had whispered breathlessly against her ear, words unlike any she'd ever received. They were the promises that fairy tales were made of; vows of devotion and confessions of love. When she felt him moving inside of her for the first time, it was as if they'd been making love for years. There was no awkwardness between them as was so often the case with new lovers.

And as she lay sprawled out on the bedspread, while he selflessly pleased her, Brennan knew that she would never again view the activity of coitus in the same indifferent and clinical ways she once did. After having completed a frustratingly long period of self-imposed abstinence, during which her only pleasures came at her own fingertips as her imagination spun wild fantasies of what her partner would feel like or taste like, the scientist could finally admit to herself, that she would never invite another man to her bed.

As he eased her down from her climax, gently stroking and kissing her, his eyes drank in everything about her - the way her body moved when she came, the pretty pink flush that spread from her chest up her neck until it tinged her cheeks, and the way her eyelids fluttered as she tried to catch her breath. When she settled, a gentle sigh puffing from between her lips, he withdrew his fingers slowly and pushed up to his elbows so he could look up at her.

"Mmm," she hummed with a lazy smile as she raised her head from the pillow, arching an eyebrow at her partner.

Crawling up her body, Booth felt like a predator moving in on his prey, and _oh, what lovely prey she was_, he thought. When her cool hands reached up and cupped his jaw, he settled over her body, resting on his forearms as their eyes locked.

Brennan pulled his face down to meet hers and they kissed gently. She was very much aware that Booth desperately needed release as well, but she wanted just a moment to savor the aftermath of the mind-blowing orgasm he had just given her. She opened her mouth to his, tasting herself on his lips, and spanned her fingers wide across his shoulders, internally marvelling at the play of his muscles flexing just below the surface.

"Booth," she smiled as he brushed his nose against hers playfully.

"Hmm?" He shifted until his tongue flicked her earlobe and he nuzzled against her temple, inhaling her sweet perfume.

"Make love to me?" Her voice was soft, the alto timbre smooth.

"For the rest of our lives, Baby…" He pressed a kiss to her neck and concentrated on the ticklish sensation of her hands sweeping down his sides until she reached the waistband of his open shorts. Pushing up, he looked down at her and reached back, aiding in her attempt to extricate himself from the unwelcome clothing. In a momentary flash of clarity, he wondered if his declaration might scare her, so he added an escape route for her. "For as long as you'll let me..."

She searched his eyes once she could feel his body, finally naked and snugged between her parted thighs. Her pale eyes studied his handsomely chiseled features, memorizing once again, every perfectly-masculine angle of his face. With a single finger, she traced his lower lip, following the movement with her luminescent gaze until he pressed a soft kiss against that finger. Brennan felt her lips curl in response to his extreme tenderness. Deep down, she knew that her partner possessed enough strength and power to dominate her easily, but the gentle and doting way he took care of her caused an emotion to swell in her chest that she no longer wanted to keep inside.

Smiling brilliantly, she met his molten chocolates. "Don't ever doubt how much I want you, Booth." She accepted his kiss, opening her lips to his wordless request.

As their passion grew, hands wandered and bodies thrummed. Booth shifted his hips and lined himself up, reaching one hand down between their bodies to ensure she was ready for him. When he fisted himself and swiped against her core, finding her absolutely prepared, he rolled his pelvis until his erection pressed into her fully. Hissing sharply, a quiet, guttural grunt erupted from his chest as he settled into an easy rhythm. One hand found hers and he intertwined their fingers, pulling her arm up over her head and pressing it against the pillow as they moved together.

It took mere minutes before Brennan felt her body responding in the ancient, most primal way possible. The angle her partner was pistoning in and out was perfect for pushing her over a second ledge and she stretched her legs around his narrow hips, locking her ankles across his lower back.

"Booth…" She breathed, her fingers tightening against his as her other hand clawed at his back.

"C'mon, Bones." Booth wanted to hold out until she came again, this time while he was buried deep inside of her. "Let go, Temperance. I've got you..." He bit her shoulder lightly, soothing the sting with his tongue, trying to distract himself just long enough.

Knowing that her body was quickly succumbing to Booth's expert manipulations, she tightened her pelvic floor muscles. She yearned to give him as much friction as possible, offering her partner as much pleasure as he was giving her. As her body betrayed her attempts to stave off the inevitable spiral, she started panting, rolling her hips against his in perfect rhythm.

"Come with me, Booth…" Her plea was soft but her message crystal clear. "I want to feel you, Booth…"

When he picked up the pace, pushing himself to meet her request, the telltale tug at the base of his spine indicated he was just about there...

One final, unprompted declaration pushed him just hard enough, and soon her orgasm triggered his own and he was emptying himself into her body as blinding light flashed behind his eyes.

Brennan felt tears of emotion stinging the backs of her eyes until they leaked out from the corners without permission. Accepting them simply as manifestations of her feelings, the perpetually poised scientist finally let go, giving the man in her arms the one thing she innately knew he desired, without a lead-in or prompt.

"I love you, Booth…"

**A/N Postscript**

**So, I hope this final version was satisfactory for you all…. Please let me know! **

**I want to say THANK YOU for all your support and for humoring JazzyMuse when she was ornery and took that side trip over to my Ramblings story collection. Sometimes I just have to write whatever comes to me, even when I want to keep on course with this happy little fic… I appreciate your feedback &amp; all the new follows! **

**And for those of you just finding my older pieces, please take a moment and review when you read a chapter, let me know what you think. Writing is a very organic, living process, changing all the time and feedback is invaluable to amateur writers like myself. **

**peace and love, my friends,**

**~jazzy**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N Hello and welcome! I want to thank you all again for your patience while this next chapter was written and re-written before I could edit it to make sense! I appreciate you all so much! **

**I also want to say Merry Christmas to those of you out there celebrating today. I wish a very Happy Holiday Season to everyone, regardless of what holiday you celebrate, and a Very Happy 2017! I hope everyone has a wonderful wrap-up of 2016 and a great new year!**

**Disclaimer: Really? By now I think it's pretty clear I don't own these characters…. But this story is constantly developing in the recesses of JazzyMuse's imagination! **

The partners rested atop the bedspread as their bodies cooled and their breathing slowly returned to normal. Brennan's hand trailed up and down Booth's torso lazily while his fingers made nonsensical designs along the soft curve of her hip. Pressing a kiss into her silky hair, Booth groaned in disapproval as the alarm on his watch rang.

"What's that?" Brennan's brow wrinkled, not at all happy with having their relaxation interrupted.

"Reception starts in an hour and fifteen," he grinned at her grumpy demeanor, enjoying the fact that he was learning a little more about her with every passing moment.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, pushing up to her elbows and glaring up at him. "Do we _have _to attend?"

"Hey," he laughed out loud at her childish pout, "_I_ don't like themed parties any more than _you _do…" He knuckled her chin and pulled her closer, plucking her lips gently. "And _believe _me, I would much rather stay here, with you," he trailed his thick forefinger down her throat until he reached the upper swell of her breast, " _just _like this…" He winked playfully, "but yeah, we have to go…"

One side of her mouth curled at his admission and at his easy caress. "_Some_ themed dinners are not _terrible_, but," she spread her fingers wide, low on his abdomen, and grinned coyly while inching further south by the second. "I find that I am especially _opposed _to leaving this bed right now…"

Brennan was inwardly surprised at how comfortable she was with her partner in their newly established relationship. The scientist had only been involved in a few loosely-structured relationships in her life - Michael, Peter and Sully - and none of those had allowed her the freedom to be playful in the same ways as she could with Booth. She had always been reserved, somewhat distant with her previous lovers, maintaining her protective barriers against even her bed partners. Whether her actions were subconsciously based on the need for self-preservation against possible ridicule or a deeply-rooted fear of eventual rejection, she couldn't really say. On one level, since allowing Booth to penetrate her metaphorical walls, her survival instincts went into red-alert, warning her against being too free with her carefully-guarded emotions. On a much deeper level, however, she knew that Booth was the only man with whom she could trust the playfulness that seemed to spill forth so easily when they were together, so she tamped down those apprehensions and let the impish side of her nerdy personality shine. "I could make it worth your while…" She teased him with a sing-song voice and an awkward wink as she stretched up, pressing a kiss against the side of his neck.

He growled through a hungry grin, pushing his seductive scientist to her back, sliding over her prone body until he covered her. "_You_," he nuzzled against her neck, just below her ear, "are an evil, _evil _woman, Bones…" He opened his mouth and moved along her throats until he could press the flat of his tongue to her pulse point. The agent seized his partner's wandering hands as she tried to shimmy them between their bodies, heading straight for his crotch. Pulling those _dancing phalanges_ away, he stretched both of her arms out to their sides and pressed them to the mattress. Chuckling, he arched his neck back and looked down at her bright, mischievous eyes and rubbed their noses quickly. "We both need to shower and get ready, Bones… We can't go to dinner smelling like sex…"

She smiled, knowing he was right, but feeling particularly playful. "Well, _I _can be ready in thirty minutes, Booth… What takes _you _so long?" Over the course of their partnership, whenever they had a function to attend, she had often teased him about how much longer he took getting ready than she did. When the opportunity presented itself in that moment, she couldn't resist challenging him.

"Heh, heh," his laugh was dangerous, accepting her challenge immediately. "No you didn't, Bones…" He pushed back, quickly sliding from the bed and grabbing her around the waist. Pulling her into his arms with ease, he ignored her laughing protests as marched towards the bathroom. "It's not nice to insult your partner, you know… It's not easy looking as good as I look."

She threw her head back in laughter at his retort and clung to his shoulders, enjoying the sensation of complete safety in his arms. "I never assumed it was _easy_, Booth… I've only ever observed that it takes you a _long time_," she giggled uncharacteristically. Again, in the back of her mind, her thoughts moved fleetingly to previous relationships. Even in her most casual of encounters, she couldn't think of a partner who could take charge in such a way that she allowed herself to be physically manhandled. But with Booth, the years of evidence of his care, she knew no harm would come from her acquiescence to his impressive prowess.

Pausing in the doorway of the bathroom, he waited while she flipped the light-switch and then moved across to the shower. Holding the bulk of her weight in his right arm, his left let her legs fall slowly to the floor as his lips grabbed hers. Once she was standing on her own accord, he reached into the shower and turned the knob, setting it to a comfortable heat. His dark eyes studied her anticipatory expression, feeling his body already responding to her proximity… and to her nakedness. Palming her ribs, he pulled her against his body, smiling down into her eyes. "It's hard work makin' myself look good enough to be seen at your side, Bones." He backed her into the shower stall. "You're quite a challenge, y'know…"

Welcoming the hot water as it hit her shoulders and ran down her back, Brennan reached out, grabbing her partner's waist and pulling him into the steamy warmth as well. "I think you look good right now, Booth," her lips curled as her blue eyes darkened, her body starting to thrum in response to his attractive masculine structure. Her gaze raked hungrily across his bare chest and down his torso, admiring his toned abs and the way his upper body tapered down to narrow hips, forming the often sought-after triangular shape.

"Well," his own eyes roamed as he spoke, palming her hips, "let's see what we can do to save some time, huh?" He pulled her flush to his body and bowed his head, meeting her eager lips with a mutual smile as his hands slid along her smooth skin, until he cupped the backs of her thighs, wordlessly encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips, a request to which she complied immediately.

B/B/B/B

Once she was dressed, Brennan sat on the balcony of Booth's room and waited while he finished his phone call. Rebecca had called to finalize the dates that Booth was planning to take their son camping, ensuring that she was clear to schedule a work-trip and naturally, once his parents were through talking, Parker was eager to speak to his father. The scientist could imagine the excitement radiating from Parker at the discussion of his annual camping trip, and while she listened to the one-sided conversation from Booth, she simply relaxed and enjoyed the breeze rolling off the water. She could smell a delicious mix of aromas drifting up from the patio below, accompanied by the inviting sounds of steel drums playing a tune she recognized, but couldn't name.

"Yeah, we sure are, Bub," Booth moved onto the balcony and stood behind his partner's chair. Tracing a single finger along her shoulder, he smiled when he saw her shiver. "Well, when I get home this weekend I can call for the reservations and if they don't have any open campsites there, then we can try the state park where you and I went fishing, huh?" He grinned at his son's excitement about their annual summer vacation. Brennan rested her head back against his torso and he cupped his hand around the side of her neck, winking down at her when she raised her pale gaze upwards. "Sounds like a plan, Parks. But hey, you better get going. Your mom said dinner was just about ready." He paused, listening to his son while letting his eyes skim across his partner's face as she closed her eyes, still resting against his abdomen. "I will, buddy. We love you, too."

He ended his call and bent over, pressing an upside-down kiss on Brennan's soft smile. "Parker says he loves you," he spoke against her mouth and pecked her once more before standing upright. "He's pretty stoked about camping this year."

She smiled and stood, walking around the table and smoothing her hand down his shirt. "He's _always_ excited about camping, isn't he?"

"Well," Booth shrugged one shoulder and grinned, feeling excited in his own way to spend time with his boy. "Yeah, I guess he is."

"I think he's mostly looking forward to having you all to himself for a whole week. As an adolescent, he is sure to yearn for that connection with his father… And let's be honest, on most weekends, he is sharing you with either work or, in some cases," her voice grew quiet, "with me…" Her eyes traced his sharp features, silently wondering if Parker would truly welcome her to become an even more permanent addition to their unconventional family.

Booth interwove his fingers, resting them against the upper swell of her bottom as he looked down at her, instantly recognizing her hesitation. "He loves you, Bones. He loves spending time with you…"

"I just don't want him to think that I'm trying to take anything away. I don't want to interrupt your visitation schedule and I don't want -"

"Bones, relax." He smiled warmly. "He won't resent anything, I promise." One side of his lips curled further. "In fact, you should be prepared for him to invite you to join us."

She raised her brows in surprise. "What? Why would he do that? He has never invited me before. Besides," she prattled on without taking a breath, "this is his time with you… It wouldn't be fair for me to be there. And," her head tilted, "why would you say that? Parker can't _possibly_ know yet that you and I have entered into a relationship..."

"My kid's pretty damn intuitive, you know. I think he can sense a change, even if he doesn't know or quite understand exactly what that change is..." He licked his lips and started rocking the two of them side to side, ever so slightly, swaying to the rhythm of a melody carried on the breeze from far below. "Besides, he asks me _every_ year if we could invite you…"

The scientist was quite obviously shocked at this revelation, because she knew nothing about these invitations. "What?"

Booth nodded and smirked. "Yeah, he has wanted you to come along since he was," he looked up, calculating the years, "about, six…" He grew more serious. "But until this year, I didn't think I could handle being so close to you and not be able to, at the very least, reach out and touch you." Watching her process this information, he continued. "I thought this year, I'd let him ask you directly…" He released one hand from her back and raised a finger. "_But_, don't feel obligated to go, Bones. It's ok to tell him 'no' if it isn't something you think you'd enjoy."

Surprised at this new information, a 'V' formed between Brennan's eyebrows. "Would -" she thought for a moment. "Would you prefer that I decline Parker's invitation when he proposes it?"

"What?" He looked shocked that she would even consider that. "No, Bones, not at all. Why would you think that?" His fingers spanned around her hips, holding her in front of him at a close distance.

"Well, I wouldn't want to interfere with your plans, Booth. _If he asks_, and if you would prefer to have the week for just the two of you, I will decline. I wouldn't, however, let on that you and I discussed it prematurely, I would just respond spontaneously…" One of her hands rested on his chest, a single fingertip tracing a button. "I wouldn't want Parker to be upset with you…"

He shook his head and grinned. "Bones, if my kid invites you to our camping trip, _and frankly I suspect he will_, then I would welcome you with open arms." He tugged her closer and chuckled. "Of course, my arms will promptly close once you're within reaching distance." He kissed her lightly, enjoying her gentle laugh. "But seriously, Babe. If you don't want to, don't feel like you can't tell him no. If you do wanna go, then _hell yeah_, accept the damn invite."

She grinned at his encouragement, but reminded herself not to expect an invitation from the pre-teen; it was well documented that adolescents experienced erratic variances in moods and preferences. She knew, as a scientist and an anthropologist, that it was entirely possible, _and highly probable_, that Parker would soon be entering that stage of life when he would be more dependent on his father than on his mother, or in her case, on another female authority figure in his life. "I guess we'll just have to wait to see if he asks. If he doesn't, I won't be upset and I don't want you to be, either, Booth. Let him approach you about it. Promise me you won't try to coerce him..."

"I promise," he smiled into a kiss. Booth felt himself fall a little harder for his partner, knowing how much she loved his son already, and he adored how insistent she was to not influence his actions. For years, his genius thought she was incapable of relating to children, but she'd always had a special bond with Parker. He was certain that his son had the ability to pick up on his own feelings for Brennan, and as such, the child had accepted and eagerly welcomed her into their family. He rubbed their noses together playfully and squeezed his arms tighter. "Have I told you today how crazy I am about you?"

"You may have mentioned something to that effect." She joked and pressed a kiss to his jaw before they pulled apart, both knowing that they needed to head downstairs to the reception. As they moved back into the room and Booth locked his sliding door, she studied his attire. As he turned, she eyed his physique with appreciation. "Did you pack one of those," she pointed to his shirt, "in every color?"

Booth looked down at his shirt, smoothing out wrinkles that weren't there. He had packed three Guayabera shirts, liking the way they fit. "Nope, just three. Why? Don't you like it?" He cocked an eyebrow curiously.

"What?" Her eyes flared. "No." She smirked. "I mean yes."

"Yes you don't like it?" He teased.

"No, I _do _like it," she closed the distance between them again, tracing the pads of her fingers along the embroidery running vertically on the front pane. "When I see you in these shirts," she stepped even closer, until she could easily smell his cologne, "I think about Vegas…"

"Mmm," Booth hummed, recalling the images of his partner dressed in her _Roxie _dresses; they were the visions that fed his fantasies for years. "_You_," his wide hands spanned her rib cage, "were _smokin'_, Bones... And Roxie was…" he licked his lips and let his eyes travel down her body, admiring the dress she was currently wearing while superimposing his memory of her red dress in his imagination. Curling one side of his lips as he leaned in for a kiss as he spoke against her mouth. "Roxie was fuckin' hot…"

She leaned into the kiss, her mind drifting back to their hotel room in Vegas, when she had harbored unspoken desires that they could've kissed like this. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she curled them up to his shoulders, molding her body against his and wishing they could stay in the room all evening. As he pulled back, however, she was quickly reminded that they had to make their obligatory appearance at the reception and company dinner.

"Hmm," he hummed. "We gotta go, babe."

"Mmm-hmm," she agreed but followed his mouth when he backed away, grinning when he let her. _Just a few more minutes,_ she thought.

B/B/B/B

Booth and Brennan stepped onto the back patio, instantly greeted by a server offering beverages from a large silver tray.

"Good evening and welcome! Would you like a Beachside Rum Punch or a Coconut Mambo?" The young woman smiled warmly, her brightly colored uniform instantly giving the impression of embracing the evening's tropical island theme.

"Yeah, sure," Booth reached for the rum based drink. "Thanks."

"I'll have the Coconut Mambo, thank you," Brennan smiled warmly. Swiveling her eyes to Booth, she watched his throat work as he took a swallow of his tropical concoction before they continued into the crowd. Unable to stop herself, she launched into the history of her drink's namesake. "The Mambo was invented during the 1930s in Cuba. It wasn't widely marketed until the 1940s, though." She nodded at an agent she recognized from one of their sessions, but kept speaking to Booth. "The name means '_conversation with the gods_'. It's been said that many professional dance teachers in the US saw the original dance as extreme and undisciplined, and as such, they found it necessary to alter and standardized it from its original form in order to gain enough interest from their students to make teaching it a worthwhile undertaking."

Booth enjoyed listening to her lessons, regardless of the topic. There was a time in their history when he thought she was just showing off and trying to make those around her feel intellectually inferior. As he grew to know her, and to love her, he came to the realization that she simply enjoyed sharing her knowledge, whatever the content and the thing that surprised him most was how much he looked forward to listening to her spiels. Nodding, he aimed them towards a gathering of crafters tents, his hand firm on her back. "My mom used to Mambo," he chuckled at a private memory of the way she would dance whenever she was cleaning. "I never learned that dance, though she taught me others." He glanced at his partner, noting her interest in s recollection. "Those were good times; times when dad was at the barbershop, and we could just be ourselves at home."

Smiling as they paused their stroll, she looked up at her partner. "I'm glad you have some happy memories, Booth."

Searching her pale gaze, he inhaled through his nose. "Yeah," he knew that she, too, valued the few happy memories of when she was able to be a carefree child rather than the unwanted ward of the state. "It's important, y'know?"

Nodding in agreement, she was cut off from continuing their conversation when they were joined by Mickey and Jean.

"Evenin', Booth, Temperance," Mickey clapped Booth's shoulder and nodded warmly at Brennan.

The ladies, happy to see they were each in attendance, immediately started chatting and walked towards the tents to see the crafts on display, leaving the men to trail behind. Both of the independent women found it interesting they had bonded so quickly, but neither mentioned the fact. It was almost as if they both silently acknowledged that their easy rhetoric was certainly unique, but by the mere mention of it, the mysterious revelation would be subject to scrutiny and as such, far more volatile. Happy to simply enjoy their newfound kinship they chatted amicably about their respective days and speculated on what the island-themed evening would bring about.

Looking his friend up and down as the former Army Rangers fell into an easy banter that only longtime friends could share, Mickey motioned to his shirt. "Didn't you get the memo, Booth? You we're supposed to pack a _Hawaiian_ style shirt for our island-theme night…"

Trailing behind the girls, Booth chuckled at his buddy and colleague, who was donning a very typical, _very gaudy _floral print tropical-looking shirt. "Hey now, don't knock my style," Booth smirked as he smoothed down the button row of his lightweight shirt. "Guayabera shirts _are _island-style. They just don't scream poor fashion sense the way yours does." He laughed, "but don't get me wrong, you know? This look," he pointed to the garish colors, "it looks good on _you_!" He toasted his friend, who seemed to have purposely chosen an outrageously bright pattern for the event. "Besides, I don't even own a floral Hawaiian shirt. If I ever find myself in an appropriate setting, I'll be sure to pick one up, but I sure as hell wasn't gunna go buy one just for this week." The guys paused long enough to drop off their freshly emptied cocktail glasses and order a couple of scotches instead of accepting another theme-beverage.

"I wasn't sure you would be attending this event," Brennan mentioned to Jean, "but I am glad to see you."

"Mickey said they always have plenty of food at these things and it's not like someone is going to ask for an FBI badge or anything." She smiled. "They know I'm here with him."

"Excellent point," the anthropologist agreed. The pair walked side by side, allowing their comfortable conversation to flow organically as they approached one of the crafter tents. Stopping to watch an artist painting a colorful sunset scene, they were soon joined by Shaw and Soto, to whom Brennan introduced Jean, readily inviting them into the exploration of the various demonstrations.

Booth and Mickey had been following the ladies and paused to greet a small group of agents. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood as they enjoyed the casual atmosphere, not to mention the complimentary drinks and steel drum music. The gathering quickly grew as other agents migrated towards the charismatic banter, but Booth never lost visual contact with where his partner was wandering. He shifted his position within the group whenever the circle grew, and ensured that he could see her. It was more than a simple desire to look at her; in the back of the agent's mind, he was constantly aware that there was still a strong chance that her former foster-brother was somewhere on premises. While he never once doubted his partner's ability to defend herself, if she were to face her childhood tormentor, he needed to be there, to be her backup, her support, and to ensure she was safe. Seeing his partner enjoying herself in a way he rarely witnessed, he felt proud of her personal growth over the course of their partnership and he allowed himself to become further engaged in the conversations happening in his circle of co-workers, quickly jumping into a friendly debate involving some of his favorite sports teams and defending his stance.

The group continued to grow as new acquaintances joined longtime friends and it seemed that everyone fell into an unspoken hierarchical position among their peers. There were clearly alphas within the gathering, driving the animated discussions while others were more than content to simply contribute opinions here and there, or, in a few instances, just participate by being present and accounted for. The female agents who had taken such a shining to Booth in their earlier group session, took advantage of Brennan's absence from his side, and they pressed in close, trying to gain the attention of the infamous agent. While there were. quite obviously, several so-called 'free agents' who would have been more than happy to engage these young women in mutually flirtatious interactions, Booth seemed all but oblivious to their blatant interest and shameless gestures of availability.

After quite some time had passed, Booth felt the unmistakable presence of his partner as she and her counterparts approached the ever-growing gathering of agents. Without regard to the women who were vying for his attention, Booth turned his back to them and watched Brennan grow nearer, noting with some amusement that her pale eyes were locked on the position of those same women. She would never openly admit to him that the whole reason she was rejoining him before browsing through the rest of the crafters was _because_ said females were pressed in against her partner a little too close for her comfort, but when she spotted his dark gaze following her, she knew her concerns were unfounded...he was not interested in the blatantly proffered attentions of the unknowns. Once again, he managed to completely dissolve her worries with nothing more than a small, knowing smile and molten eyes that spoke volumes to her without uttering a word.

Before they could engage in catch-up conversations, an announcement was made from the small stage where the steel drum band had been playing.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen!" Andrew Simmons was his typical overly-excited-self, greeting everyone with a wide, toothy grin and waving people forward. "Please, if I could just have everyone's attention for a few minutes before we commence with dinner…"

**Postscript A/N**

**I know that not much happened here, but taking them straight out of the last chapter and down to the dinner seemed too abrupt, so that's why I spent some time with them upstair before letting them join the rest of the convention-goers. I hope you don't mind!**

**Again, all the best for a wonderful Holiday and 2017! **

**peace and love, my friends, **

**and some hugs, too! **

**~jazzy**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N All I can say is **_**Thank You**_ **to everyone who is still out there reading this, for your patience. Life gets in the way sometimes, and that has happened to me. I hope you still like this story and enjoy this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing. **

Dinner was a surprisingly festive event, filled with colorful, tasty dishes inspired by various tropical and exotic locales. The dishes and drinks were presented with great flair to the attendees by the staff, who were dressed in corresponding bright hues of reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks. Mickey had invited Booth and Brennan to join his table, but Booth graciously declined, promising to meet up again after their meals were complete.

"Thanks, but no," Booth placed his hand on Brennan's lower back as they faced Mickey and Jeannie. "I think it's kind of important that we sit with the rest of the Hoover team," he shrugged one shoulder and eyed Brennan sideways before looking at his friend again. "You know, with this convention being about _team building_ and all…"

"Yeah, I get it," Mickey nodded and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Let's chat later, though, huh?" He grinned. "Depending on what time tonight's shindig gets over, maybe we can go for some drinks?"

"Yes," Brennan piped up. "I'd like to go back to Axe Interlude if no one else is opposed," she smiled and met Jean's eyes.

"I agree," the smaller woman nodded enthusiastically and wrapped her arm around Mickey's thick bicep, leaning into him.

"Well," Mickey winked at Booth, "I guess that's settled already."

Booth grinned and nodded, increasing the gentle pressure on Brennan's back. "We'll catch ya after dinner. I guess there's gunna be a presentation or somethin'... Save us a couple seats, yeah?"

The partners made their way over to the table around which their D.C. colleagues were gathered, talking quietly as they went.

"There are some very talented craftsmen &amp; women displaying their wares, Booth," Brennan motioned to the tents. "I didn't get the chance to see all of them, but there is a painter whose pieces I quite liked."

"Oh yeah?" Booth smiled, thinking about the intensity he'd seen in her expression as she and Jeannie were watching the artist work. He had been standing in a circle of agents talking, but just because he wasn't with her didn't mean he hadn't been watching. "Guess I'll check 'em out after we eat if I get time."

Taking their seats, they greeted their friends and fell into easy conversations while they dined. Once dinner and dessert were completed, the attendees were encouraged to visit the craft tents and mingle while the tables were removed by staff and the seating rearranged into a audience formation. Booth purchased a hand crafted brain teaser game for Parker, and Brennan spoke with the painter whose works she had been admiring earlier, making arrangements to commission a piece to be shipped to Russ and Amy as a congratulations for their new home.

As people started making their way back towards the group seating, the partners found Mickey and Jean, joining them in the back section, along with several other seasoned agents to whom Booth had introduced Brennan over the course of the convention. The crowd was entertained with dancers and storytellers, all sharing cultural history of various island cultures whose flavors had influenced their meals that evening. Brennan sat forward in her seat, whispering loudly to Booth and excitedly contributing to the histories when she felt it was necessary, much to the amusement of their fellow-attendees sitting close enough to hear.

Chuckling, Booth patted her leg, careful to keep the contact appropriate by not maintaining hold of her thigh. "Shhh," he laughed at his excited, nerdy partner and bumped her shoulder playfully. "Tell me later, Bones."

"Later you won't remember what they were talking about and I'll have to retell you the whole thing."

"That's fine," he winked. "I don't mind."

"But that would be a waste of time…"

"No it wouldn't…" Leaning close, he dared to whisper in her ear. "I think it's pretty hot when you get all squinty."

Unable to stop the blush from spreading across her cheeks, the scientist was stumped by his admission and closed her mouth, eyeing him suspiciously.

Waggling his eyebrows quickly, he turned back towards the stage, focusing a little too intently, and let her stew on his confession for a few minutes. He stifled a laugh when she could no longer refrain from making another comment, not-so-quietly correcting a 'fact' that had been spoken up on stage. And so the evening progressed, the group around the DC partners being entertained on both sides - by those performing up front as well as by the one person in the audience who seemed to know exactly when the story-weavers were making up myths. And pleasantly, Booth mused, no one seemed to really mind.

B/B/B/B

The mass majority of the attendees remained outside even after the official entertainment had ended and the crafters had closed up their tents and displays. The convention bartenders were swapped out for hotel staff and the service converted to a cash bar, but no one seemed to think twice about forking out money for drinks. The combo band that typically played in the lobby bar relocated themselves out to the patio and played their set lists to a somewhat attentive audience, encouraged from time to time with randomly hollered requests accompanied by handsome tips dropped into their band jar or refreshed drinks replacing the empty glasses sitting atop amplifiers and stools. The convention sessions were scheduled for a late afternoon kick-off the following day, due to an evening team building event, so no one was worried about waking up early, allowing for participation by pretty much everyone. As Booth and Mickey were standing at the bar waiting for refills for themselves and the ladies, they joked with other agents who were also waiting while toasting with shots that were bought for and handed to them by good-natured colleagues. Glad that they had decided to stick around rather than going to the club, the men tossed a few dollars each into the bartenders bucket.

It took all of ten seconds for Booth's attention to be diverted when the band started a new song. With the smile falling from his face, he turned in place and stared in disbelief of their shitty luck as the lead singer, a sultry alto wearing a sinful number that hugged her body like a second skin, giggled into her mic and called attention to all the 'girls' in the audience.

As the opening measure of _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_ cut through the high pitched and playful whoops of those attendees trying to recapture their youth, or perhaps those simply wanting to relive a happier, less complicated time in their lives, Booth's eyes moved to Brennan. She and Jeannie sat at their four top, their backs to the bar where he and his former Army comrade stood, diligently awaiting their order. The Special Agent's knowing eye caught the way her shoulders squared when her spine straightened.

Mickey noticed his friend's change of mood instantly and followed his line of sight, not seeing anything that would have tipped him off as being wrong. "What's up?" He stood beside Booth, now also facing their table and he saw Brennan turn to say something to Jean while rising from her seat. Without even gathering her belongings, the anthropologist moved quickly from the table and headed for the doors that would lead into the lobby, and ultimately away from the patio.

Ignoring Mickey's question, Booth took off instantly, following his partner into the hotel. He caught up with her at the elevators, where she was standing and pounding the call button repeatedly with the open palm of her hand.

"Bones," he reached for her bicep, gently wrapping his fingers around her arm.

Brennan expected him to be on her heels, but at that particular moment, the _last _thing she wanted was to talk to Booth; she didn't want to see him, she didn't want to listen to him… Brennan was swimming in her own emotions and frankly, didn't want to speak with _anyone_. Wrenching her arm free of his tender grasp, she didn't see his pained expression as she turned her back to him and headed towards the stairs. "I want to be alone, Booth."

Determined to support her, whether she wanted it or not, he followed her through the doors and watched as she started to ascend the steps. "What if I don't want you to be alone, huh?" He was close behind her. "Or maybe it's me, maybe _I_ don't want to be alone."

Pausing at the first landing, she glanced down at her partner, who remained at the base of the stairwell. Her emotions were raw, _so terribly raw_, it had only been a few days since she relived that horrible time in their lives, confessing to sleeping in his apartment when she thought he'd left her behind. Turmoil rolled through her body, creating simultaneous urges to cry, scream and quite possibly, even to vomit. She shook her head, biting back her traitorous tears as they threatened to spring free.

"I don't want you with me right now, Booth." She fought hard not to yell at him. "Why can't you just leave me alone when I need it?" She fisted her hands, pressing her blunt fingernails into her palms to quell the dizzy sensation trying to take over her consciousness. "Is it really too much to ask?" Her volume elevated, as did the pitch in her emotional voice. "Is this how you think it's going to be from now on? Just because we slept together doesn't mean you can just disregard _my _needs and bulldoze me into bowing down to your wishes!" She swallowed thickly. As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she'd regret them, but in her current mental state, she apparently lacked the ability to filter her thoughts. "Why can't you just respect my need to be _alone_?!"

"Because, Bones," he clenched his jaw, swallowing his anger and trying to remind himself that she was in a fragile state at that moment. It didn't seem to matter how often they talked about those two weeks, his fake death had scarred her on a far deeper level than she openly admitted to anyone. Even he had only gotten a tiny glimpse of it a couple days before when she made her own confessions as they sat on the beach. "Because this doesn't _just _involve you. It involves _us_. And like it or not, _we_ need to work through this together."

Inhaling sharply, and against her better judgement, she said the one thing she knew would make him leave her alone, even if it hurt. "I don't _need_ your help, Booth. I am perfectly capable of handling this on my own." Without waiting for his response, and ignoring the shocked, hurt expression that he wore, she turned away, trudging up the stairs, knowing he would not follow her that time. As she moved, she mentally chastised herself, it was irrational to push him away, it was unfair and cruel, but her sudden panic and fear was all-consuming, overriding every logical thought in her genius brain.

Booth remained, frozen in place, for several moments, listening to the sounds of her footsteps fading as she allowed the distance between them to increase. When he'd heard the band play the first notes of the song she sang on that fateful night, he expected his partner to be upset. Hell, he wasn't at all surprised at her hasty exit from the patio; that expectation had afforded him the advantage of catching up with her so quickly. But he didn't expect _this…_ He didn't expect the anger he witnessed flashing behind her eyes, or such a quick onset of the stubborn streak he had learned to adore years ago, but above all, he hadn't expected her to shut him out with such finality. Silently, he listened. He could still make out the sounds of her movements, far overhead, until the sound of a door opening, the now-familiar staccato squeak telling him it was the correct exit, signaling to him that she had made it to the ninth floor without further incident.

His mind reeling, Booth turned to leave the first floor landing, moving slowly as his mind tried to rationalize what had just happened. As he passed the elevators, his attention was drawn by Mickey and Jean, calling out to him.

"Seeley," Jean stood before him, looking up with large, inquisitive eyes. She didn't know what had happened, she didn't understand why her companion had fled like a frightened rabbit and she was clearly concerned. Placing a hand on his arm, she shook him from his revelry. "Is everything alright?" Of course everything was not alright, that was blatantly obvious, but she didn't know what she could do to help their friend.

Booth took a deep break and gave himself a mental shake. "Hey," his eyes flicked to Mickey and then back down to Jean. "I'm sorry about that." He rolled his lips, wondering how much to reveal. "Bones, um," he shrugged once and broke eye contact. "Yeah, sorry… That song they were playing out there..." He looked back at Jean, "it holds some difficult memories for her…" He noticed that she held Brennan's small handbag in her hand and he reached for it. "Sorry, she must not have realized she forgot this…"

"It's ok." Jeannie relinquished possession of the clutch and glanced at her husband, wondering if they should interfere or not…

Mickey looked at his longtime friend, sensing there was much more to the story than a simple bad memory. Prodding gently, he placed his hand on his wife's lower back and spoke to Booth. "Why don't we go have a drink?" Seeing that Booth was about to decline the suggestion, he placed his free hand firmly on Booth's shoulder. "Not out there," he nodded towards the patio, where most of their colleagues remained. "In the lounge, instead. It's quieter." Leaving no option for his friend to say no, he physically nudged Jean towards Booth, and his wife took the hint, immediately looping her arm through the younger agent's and tugging gently until Booth was forced to either give in and walk alongside or stubbornly hold his place and play an awkward game of tug of war.

The three selected a table in the back, away from the bar and subsequently away from the minimal crowd that was gathered. Ordering a round of drinks, Mickey eyed his younger friend, who was distractedly running his thumb along the zipper closure of his partner's purse and avoiding eye contact with a determination that rivalled his own whenever Jean was angry with him.

"So," Mickey sat back and took a slow drawl of his beer. "You, uhh, ya wanna shed some light on what happened back there?" He cocked an eyebrow at Booth, cutting straight to the point.

Booth was startled out of his inner thoughts and he looked over at Mickey as he reached for his glass. With a quick tilt of his head and a slight shrug of his right shoulder, he knocked back a finger of whisky, wondering briefly how much he could reveal without jeopardizing Brennan's trust. He focused on his empty glass when he lowered it to the table and glanced at his friend.

"It's, umm," he rolled his lips between his teeth and swallowed thickly. "It's a pretty sensitive subject. One that's been haunting us for a handful of years…" He glanced sideways at Jean and then back to Mickey. "And one that I just learned more about this week."

Jean suddenly felt like she should allow Booth to clear his conscious with Mickey alone, as if she was intruding on a conversation that should occur between trusted, longtime friends. Friends who shared a more common history, complete with more literal blood, sweat and tears, than she could ever image. Patting Booth's thigh before he continued, she scooted forward in her seat. "Listen, boys," she looked at Mickey and then at Booth. "I'm going to take this up to Temperance," she picked up the tiny purse, "and then I'm going to head back to the room. I think that maybe you two would be better off chatting," she looked at Mickey, hoping he would understand why she was leaving, "you know, man to man."

Booth reached for the bag, shaking his head gently. "Bones doesn't want company. She made that perfectly clear…"

Jean held the purse in her opposite hand and rose from her seat, patting his shoulder lightly. "I'm not going to be company, I'm not going to impose. I'm just going to return this and let her know if she wants to talk, I'm willing to listen... Don't worry, Seeley, I may have only met Temperance this week, but I know a private person when I see one, and I respect that." She stepped up to her husband's seat and gave him a quick kiss. "I'll see you upstairs. Take your time."

Watching the small woman walk away, the men let the air of several years' worth of unspoken understanding hang between them for a few minutes. When Booth grew uncomfortable with the extended silence, he cleared his throat.

"Bones," he began softly, knowing without a doubt that he could trust Mickey unequivocally. "She, ah, she had a difficult youth… Her parents were career criminals who tried to get outta the game when she was a kid...moved their family and assumed new identities… She never knew it." He nodded at a passing waitress and signalled for a refill, trying to organize his thoughts. When both drinks had been refreshed, he continued to an attentive ear.

"One day, shortly after turning fifteen, her parents, they just never came home. She was left with her older brother, who was barely nineteen at the time. After a short while, her brother, he couldn't really handle taking care of her… He was young, no job… She was an awkward, introverted kid who maybe needed more than a sibling only four years older than herself could give… I imagine it was just too much for him to handle, so he up and left, sealing her fate in the hands of Child Services…"

Mickey listened without interrupting, understanding the way his friend's mind worked, and he knew that Booth needed to tell his story in a way that made sense to himself. While he was sure there were things the Special Agent was leaving out of his partner's history, the seasoned Field Office Director recognized the measured pace at which Booth was speaking… He was willing to share a little bit of history, but was choosing passages that would be applicable to the end message.

"Back then, you know how it was… There weren't as many regulations in place for fostering a kid… Less background searches, even less follow-ups to ensure a kid's safety…" He took another drink, imagining his partner as a vulnerable teen, subjected to various forms of abuse, including what he was certain, once he learned the whole secret of this Ledbetter family, would turn out to have been some form of sexual abuse. The mere thought of anyone hurting a child was enough to make his blood boil, but for that kid to have been Brennan? It was almost too much to bear. "Let's just say that even though she only had to suffer through three years of bouncing from house to house while in the system, she quickly learned to distrust people and became a master of disguise at hiding her true feelings… Those three years," he shook his head. "They took a toll on her..."

"Shit," Mickey glanced around the room, processing his own images of a young Brennan in trouble. "I never knew she'd been through so much. She must keep that part of her past very quiet, because even with all her publicity with her books and all, I don't think I ever heard about her being a ward of the State."

"Yeah, it's not somethin' she advertises…" He took another drink, forcing his throat to work so he could finish what he wanted to say. "But anyway, being the fucking genius she is, she went to college on scholarships, worked to make the extra money she needed, and never allowed herself to become dependent on anyone else. She defends her independence fiercely and by the time I'd met her, she had already carved her name into the history books as one of the leading forensic anthropologists in the world." He smiled at the memory of the first time he saw her, but knew that was a story for another day and quickly shook the image free.

"But you know, given her past, she doesn't really trust people… She barely had any friends when we met… Y'know, like _true _friends… She immersed herself in work, always trying to better herself, trying to learn new things… And once I convinced her that we'd make a successful partnership, I had to work my ass off to earn her trust."

"Well," Mickey hoped to interject a ray of hope into his friend's story. "It sure seems that you've earned it, Booth. I mean, I see the way she looks at you. She might be upset about something at the moment, but she trusts you…"

"Yeah, to an extent…" Booth licked his lips, his dark eyes darting around the room before settling back on Mickey. "A couple years after partnering up, we were at a club - me, Bones, the squints… It was a karaoke club and I'd convinced her to get up and sing because during the case we'd been working, she kept bragging _on and on_ about what a great singer she was when she was younger." He chuckled a little at the memory of seeing her on stage and how beautiful she'd been. "And there she was, up on that stage in her green sweater, belting out _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun..._ just like she was born to be up there…" Then he grew serious. "But, there was this girl...well, this _woman_, involved with a case, and she had a screw loose, I guess. She took a liking to me and an _immediate _dislike to Bones, and I didn't realize just how deranged she truly was…" He took a deep breath and leaned forward so his forearms were on his knees. "This woman, Pam, she followed us and got my attention as she pulled a gun and trained it on Bones, saying she was gonna shoot so that we could be together."

"Oh, fuck…" Mickey muttered under his breath.

"Well, I stood up, putting myself between Bones and this psycho, just as the trigger was pulled, and I went down with a bullet to my chest."

Mickey was speechless, he hadn't known about this injury Booth sustained while protecting his partner.

"Bones, she came down off stage and pulled my weapon, killing the woman before she could take another shot." He heaved a heavy sigh. "She tried to stop the bleeding and keep me conscious, but I passed out before the ambulance arrived. At the hospital, they wouldn't let her back with me because she wasn't immediate family, so they forced her to stay out in the waiting room with everyone else." Swallowing thickly, he thought about the series of events that happened after that night, and a decision that would haunt him for years following. "After surgery, the FBI, _my director_, propositioned me to use my shooting to our advantage in an attempt to lure a longtime criminal out of hiding. There was this guy who we'd been after, and we knew he'd come to my funeral, just for the joy of seeing my buried… So we falsified my death."

"Holy shit, Booth, don't tell me they didn't inform your partner...?"

"She was the first person on my list of people to inform, but through some events that I'll tell you about another time, she wasn't told. And for two weeks, she believed I was dead." He felt sick to his stomach. "For two weeks, she blamed _herself _for my death… Shouldered the burden that my kid was gonna grow up without a father because I'd stopped a bullet meant for _her… _She beat herself up that she wasn't good at reading people and couldn't have foreseen that this woman was jealous of her on a level that just wasn't normal… And the whole time she was dealing with my death, she was withdrawing from the few friends she had and immersing herself in her work so no one knew how much she was hurting…"

Mickey could see the pain written in Booth's expression, he knew his friend well and recognized the self-flagellation that was going on in his mind, even years after the fact. "Booth, you said she was on the list, she has to know you didn't mean for that to happen…"

"Eventually she said she forgave me… But there was a definite fracture in the trust I'd earned from her… No matter how small, how insignificant it might seem to someone like you or me, with Bones it's different. With her, once she feels that she's been deceived," he shrugged, feeling the weight of her more recent confessions bearing down on his shoulders, "well, let's just say it takes a helluva a lot to get back into her good graces…"

"So, that song that the band was playing…" Mickey brought the conversation back around to the topic at hand. "That brought all those memories back to the surface…"

Lacking the energy to delve any deeper, and frankly, not wanting to share any more of their private conversations on the point with his army pal, Booth just nodded. "Yep. Now it's all fresh in her mind again…"

Mickey felt sorry that Brennan was probably experiencing something very akin to the nightmarish flashbacks from which he suffered _and _he was certain, similar to those that haunted Booth as well. Hoping to offer some insight that may help the partners get back on track, he mirrored Booth's posture, leaning on his knees. "Go on up an' talk to her, Booth. Remind her that you're still here and she's not alone... Hold her...kiss her...make love to her..." When he saw the concern flash in Booth's eyes, he raised on side of his mouth and held out his hand, ignoring what he was certain was a knee-jerk response claiming they were '_just partners_.' "Hey, do whatever you need to do to prove to her that she can count on you to be there… Let her know that these flashbacks that she's having, that they're not real… Think about it, man..." He pinned Booth with serious eyes. "How do you feel when you wake up from a nightmare? When a thunderstorm is particularly loud or violent... When, even if it's only in your mind, you're _back there again_, wondering if you're gunna live another day, or if those fuckers are finally gonna just let you _die _already…" He knew he had Booth's undivided attention, and he knew without a doubt, that the man knew exactly what he was talking about. "What is it that you wanna hear when you wake up in a cold sweat, covered in your own piss b'cause you're scared shitless from your own nightmares?" He sat back up and regarded his brother carefully. "Cause I'll tell you what I want… I just want Jean to tell me she loves me, and that I'm ok, and that I'm home and not in that shithole that we thought was gunna be our grave… I wanna know that I'm _alive_..."

Thinking about Mickey's analogy, it made sense and he wondered why he hadn't thought about it before. "She's having flashbacks," he whispered. "Like we have…" He raised his chocolate eyes up, feeling shame that he hadn't seen it before. "How could I have missed that…"

"You're only human, Booth." He patted his friend on the shoulder as he stood. "C'mon. I'm sure Jean thinks I've passed out down here and I'd bet my right nut that Temperance is pacing the room waiting for you."

The men rode the elevator up and Mickey exited at his floor before bidding a good night to his loyal friend. Before the doors closed, Booth's hand jutted through, stopping the motion.

"Hey, Mick," he waited for this confidant to turn back around. "Thanks... Y'know... for listening and for," he shrugged one shoulder, "for putting some of this into perspective." Booth knew it went without saying that his and Brennan's secrets were safe with Michael Mitchell; they'd been to hell and back, and Booth would trust the man with his life, so he knew he could trust him with their privacy.

"Night, Booth. See you tomorrow."

The doors closed and Booth took a slow, deep breath, trying to decide what he would say to Brennan first. When he entered his room, he was surprised to hear his partner's voice through the open common door, so he remained quiet, uncertain if she was speaking on the phone or if Jean was still with her. As unlikely as it was that Brennan had invited her new acquaintance into the room, he heard his friend's wife ask a question, though he couldn't understand what was said. All he knew for sure, was that Brennan was emotional, he would know her sniffles anywhere, and it tugged as his heart, at his gut. Holding his breath, he moved silently into his room, closer to the open door, torn between making his presence known or hovering just long enough to gain a feeling for what was transpiring. In a comment, apparently a response to something Jean had said, his blood suddenly ran cold through his veins.

"I think I made a mistake, Jean," Brennan muttered through a quiet sob. "I can't be this woman… I can't be the woman whose happiness is contingent upon that of another person's. And if I allow myself to fall any deeper into this relationship, and if anything happened like that again," obviously she had spoken of his fake-death, "I fear it would break me permanently…"

"Oh, Temperance, I don't think you're being rational here…" Jean wanted to help calm her new friend, and hopefully offer some comforting words of wisdom that might help mend the growing fracture that was starting to form between the anthropologist and her partner.

"I am _completely _rational, Jean. I am _the rational _one in our partnership…" She blew her nose and continued, sounding determined and borderline angry. "And when Booth comes back tonight, I'm going to tell him that we can't do this… I was wrong, I can't be the person he needs; I can't risk my own sanity for nothing more than a few months of good sex and companionship. If he doesn't understand, then," she swallowed a sob, "then I can recommend a new field scientist to accompany him and I'll go back to my roots…"

The ladies were startled when the sound of a closing door echoed through the opening between the rooms. As they stared at the doorway, expecting to see Booth appear any second, the tension in the room was palpable. When he never appeared, Brennan gingerly stood from where she had been sitting on the bed beside the woman with whom she had quickly formed an unlikely friendship.

"Booth?" She called out as she moved towards his room, her heart fluttering at the notion that he may have heard what she was saying before she was ready for him to witness it. She poked her head through, finding the room empty. With a deeply-rooted fear, she felt as though a lead weight had dropped in the pit of her stomach. _He was here, he heard my foolish words._ With sudden clarity, she knew that she could never go through with her rash plan of ending a relationship with Booth - he meant too much to her. When she had finally confessed her love, it was true, it was utterly and wholeheartedly honest. A rush of panic filled her with a sense of dread and she turned to Jean, who had moved partway through the room, approaching her position. "What have I done, Jean? Foolishly, I've ruined the best thing that's ever happened to me."

B/B/B/B

Booth took the stairs, not rushing like he so often did when trying to burn off angry energy or frustration spurred on by his partner. Instead, he paced himself slowly, deliberately taking each step one at a time as he replayed the conversation that he'd overheard… the painful words replayed in his mind, and it was all because he'd outright eavesdropped on what was supposed to be a private discussion. He could hardly believe what she had said. After all they'd been through, after the countless heart-heart talks and the quiet confessions, not to mention the assurances in which he'd promised never to leave her, and the vows that if he was ever forced into another undercover deal without her that he would initiate contact, _consequences be damned… _ And despite all of that, in spite of everything they'd shared, a simple song was enough to break her, to make his partner, the woman he was head over heels in love with, want to part ways.

He exited the stairwell into the lobby and toyed with the notion of going back into the lounge for another drink, or three. When he recognized a small group of agents entering the same location, however, he decided against it and turned to leave the building. He walked down the sidewalk without a plan, without a destination. After a few blocks, he spotted a hole-in-the-wall kinda bar down a side street. It was the sort of place that beckoned to folks down on their luck; the blinking neon called through the inky night to strangers who were licking unseen wounds in a town that would otherwise promote fond vacation memories. Crossing the street, he ignored the familiar warnings associated with gambling away his paycheck in a pool hall that looked very much like this one, and more-so, he fought the visions of kissing a younger Temperance Brennan in the rain beneath a flickering yellow liquor sign.

He stalked with a purpose past the billiard tables and approached the far side of the bar, his sights set on an empty stool as he silently thanked whoever was responsible for the thin crowd. Ordering a shot and a beer, his peripheral vision took in his surroundings without making his observations obvious. After throwing back the shot, he pulled the beer front and center and studied the carbonation bubbles rising from the base of his mug to the top. His thoughts were swimming with visions of Brennan, recounting their conversations, recalling every detail of every fight they'd ever had. People often underestimated Booth, because he worked hard to downplay his own talents, gaining more from letting others do the talking, but in reality, he had a near-photographic memory. Granted, he didn't bother to memorize scientific or medical jargon - he didn't _need _to, he had Brennan for that - but he _certainly _remembered conversations and details; he wouldn't be as good at his job if he didn't have that talent. That skill was even sharper when it focused on Brennan, and with painful precision, he thought about everything that they'd endured over the past couple years, only to be facing the very real possibility that she was going to pull back and rebuild those fucking walls of self-preservation. He took a long pull of his beer, sighing as he lowered the mug and felt a presence sidle up beside him at the otherwise empty bar.

"Evenin', honey" a smooth voice leaned closer than he'd like, the speaker's brightly-painted lips dangerously close to his ear. "You look like you could use some comp'ny…"

"Nah," he kept his eyes forward and leaned slightly away, uninterested in the woman whose perfume was so strong it could announce her presence several seconds before her physical appearance. "I'm good. Just havin' a drink." As if to emphasize the point, he raised the frosty mug to his lips and drank.

"Oh, but it's no fun drinking alone, lover," she nudged him with her shoulder, invading his personal space once again, a slow and steady intake of breath filled the woman's lungs with Booth's cologne. "How about treating a lonely lady to a glass of wine, huh?" She boldly ran her fingers across his neck, following the straight edge of his hairline as she eyed the bartender knowingly, expecting to have her wish granted.

Instead, without so much as looking at the intruder, Booth reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge, flashing it at her sideways. "How 'bout you find someone else to try to seduce, an' let me enjoy my beer in peace, huh?"

Pushing up from her bar-stool, the woman glared at his handsome profile, angry that she was being dismissed with such nonchalance. "Well you don't have to be a _jerk _about it." She turned her back to Booth and sashayed away, hoping to show the agent what he was missing out on, but failing to see the disinterest cross his face as he pocketed the wallet again.

The bartender smirked and passed Booth a fresh brew with a nod. "This one's on the house, pal." He knew the woman who had tried to pick up the stranger - she was a regular and he didn't really approve of her appearances and near-daily attempts to harass his patrons. He was glad that the man who took a place at the end of his bar and put her neatly in her place. Nodding towards the pocket that held the badge, he smiled and simply commented, "thanks for your service."

Booth made small talk with the bartender, Frank. A comment here or there, a question followed by a monosyllabic answer, until, before he knew it, the older man was announcing 'last call' for the evening. Glancing at his watch, the agent's eyebrows darted towards his hairline. "Jesus, it's one-forty-five?"

The barkeep nodded. "Sure is, son. Can I get you anything else?"

"Nah," Booth pulled out his wallet. "I'm good. Thanks." He tossed some money on the counter and eyed the attentive man. "That cover it?"

Without counting the cash, Frank nodded, not really concerned about whether or not the lawman had paid enough. "More than enough," he moved to push one of the bills back towards his patron, feeling an odd kinship with the man he suspected was a fellow veteran.

Booth shook his head at the gesture and pointed around the bar. "You got a nice place here, man. I like seeing local places like this thrive."

Sensing the stranger was nursing some sort of ache, which was the driving factor to his appearance and the local hangout that evening, Frank nodded in appreciation. "Well, you have a good night. And now you know where we are if you need a cold one."

B/B/B/B

Booth entered his room quietly, thankful that everything seemed quiet. He was still at a loss about what argument he would use on Brennan to defend the legitimacy of their relationship, but for the moment, he was content to just crawl into his bed and pass out. They didn't have any meetings in the morning since everyone was expected to participate in whatever bullshit team building event they had planned the following evening, so he knew he was safe to sleep in late. And that's _exactly _what he planned to do…

As he moved further into his room, however, unbuttoning his shirt as he moved, he groaned. There she was, sleeping soundly _in his bed_, laying on her side with her arm gently draped across what would be his pillow. She looked peaceful, though it was obvious to his keen observation abilities, that she had been crying profusely before falling asleep, the evidence of which had dried in streaks down her face. Deep down, he wanted to crawl into bed beside her, wrap her in his arms and whisper sweet promises that everything would be alright. But given what he had overheard when he was in the room earlier, he didn't dare do that. He was trying to figure out, himself, how he would deal with the fallout if she broke things off with him.

Pulling the shirt from his shoulders, he turned towards her room, deciding to sleep in her bed instead, putting some space between them until they figured out what the hell was gonna happen. He dropped his shirt on the chair back as he moved and started unbuckling his pants as he neared the bed, the soft mattress practically calling his name.

The agent fell into the welcoming space created when he pulled the comforter back, landing face first on the fluffy pillow with an appreciative moan and haphazardly pulling the cover up over his shoulders. He lay there for several minutes, his mind racing despite the late hour and high alcohol content coursing through his veins, and he thought about his partner. He remembered her body and the way it writhed perfectly against his when she was beneath him, when he had pressed her into this very mattress, wrapped in these same sheets. And then his mind went elsewhere, and he imagined her with puffy eyes and a red nose, sniffling and crying to Jeannie when she didn't know he was in the next room, declaring that she couldn't stay with him, that when he returned to his room later in the evening, she had planned to end their personal relationship. With a frustrated growl, he rolled over to his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. Everything _smelled_ like her, everything surrounding him _felt_ like her. He knew sleep would not come to him if he remained in that bed, _in her room_.

Pushing up, he grunted quietly and moved towards her balcony, but remembered with an eye roll that she only had a lounge chair on her patio. With a quiet sigh, he walked back through his room and paused only briefly to glance somewhat longingly at her before he unlocked and slid open his balcony door as silently as possible. He straddled his hammock, opting to sit upright and look out over the moonlit ocean rather than laying back and trying to sleep. His mind was awash with a million things at once, things that he could say to her to make her see that their relationship was worth the risk, evidence that she could trust what 'they' could be together, proof that he was not planning to leave her and that he didn't want her to change who she was… But it was all moot if she had already made up her mind. The woman was nothing if not stubborn as a mule and he knew that he'd be fighting an uphill battle if she had already set her mind on a separation before they even had a chance to stretch their metaphorical wings.

Leaning his head back, Booth folded his hands on his bare chest and listened to the rhythmic ebb and flow of the ocean, the constant tempo of the crashing and receding waves was soothing and before long, despite the fact that he was still sitting upright, his body and mind slipped into slumber.

B/B/B/B

Brennan woke with a start, uncertain what had disturbed her sleep, but she remained still, trying to get her bearings and remember where she was. Like a tidal wave, her memories flooded back and she bolted upright, searching the room, her eyes first settled on the glowing clock and she swallowed thickly at the late hour of three-seventeen in the morning. The sheets next to her hadn't been disturbed, which means her partner hadn't returned. Or, at least, he hadn't joined her in bed… She scurried from between the sheets and rushed to her room, relieved when she saw the disheveled bed and his clothes hanging from her chair.

_But where is he_, she wondered as she looked at the bathroom, searching for a glimmer of light that might indicate his whereabouts. Licking her lips nervously, she peeked back into his room, turning towards his restroom and she swallowed nervously. Almost by accident, the scientist caught movement through the sliding doors that led from his room and she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and let the wall support her weight for a moment. _He came back_…

She opened the door quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he was sleeping, but unable to lay back down until she had seen him. When she and Jean realized that Booth heard the foolishness that she had been babbling about earlier, Brennan became frantic with worry. She and Jean went back down to the bar, certain that they would find Mickey and Booth there, and the anthropologist would be able to pull her partner aside to talk about what had happened. Jean tried to assure her friend that while she didn't know Booth as well as Brennan did, she had known him long enough to recognize that Booth was _all-in _on this relationship, no matter how 'new' it might be. Brennan eventually convinced Jeannie that she should return to her room to be with Mickey, while she continued to try finding Booth. After several failed attempts to locate her missing lover in any of the hotel bars or out on the beach, Brennan finally gave up and returned to their rooms, falling into a fitful sleep in his bed, simply because she couldn't bear to be in her own room until he returned.

Looking at him in the pale moonlight, the scientist had an overwhelming sense of affection wash over her, and she silently chastised herself for even entertaining the mere notion that she could move on without him when they'd only so recently eliminated the damned line that had kept them apart for so long. She yearned to be close to him, so, as quietly as possible, she picked up a chair and moved it nearer to the hammock, setting it down into place with nothing more than a whisper. She situated it so her back was to the ocean and she could face his sleeping form. For several moments, the anthropologist simply studied her partner, following the contours of his body that she already knew by heart, admiring the way his handsome face was free of the near-constant worry lines that he wore when they were working.

For her entire adult life, Brennan had dismissed the fanciful notion that humans possess anything resembling the mystical 'soul' to which people refer, but since meeting Booth, and especially since finally opening up to him, she was second-guessing everything that had previously dictated her entire existence. Over the years, Booth had entertained, _and occasionally infuriated,_ her with his intense spirituality. She had witnessed a direct dichotomy between his faith and his career in the army, but it intrigued her. He struggled everyday with his history, with the tasks he'd been charged to complete, trying in vain to justify the necessary actions, the killings, to prove not so much to the outside world as to himself, that he was _not _a cold-blooded killer, that he was a good man who simply followed the orders he was given, and as a result, had saved countless other lives.

Of course, Brennan knew, almost from the very beginning, that her partner was more than a good man, but her inability to communicate on a socially acceptable level often left him in pain as he thought she was ridiculing him or challenging his devotion to his job or their country. But then, she thought about other times, those quiet moments when it was just the two of them, when she'd struggle to find words of comfort and, as if by some divine intervention to which she didn't even subscribe, he somehow seemed soothed, his troubles appeared less burdensome and he thanked her. In those moments, despite her own confusion as to what she'd done right (and wishing she could remember to do it again), he had embraced her, sometimes with bone-crushing strength, as he breathed his appreciation against the side of her head, his whispers often sending chills down her spine.

Her mind drifted further, into her own past, and to the many ways Booth had helped her cope with and understand the dynamics of her unconventional family, her upbringing and subsequent abandonment, and perhaps most of all, how he very simply made her feel less lonely. He gave her a sense of belonging that she hadn't experienced in years. He'd appointed himself her guardian, taking her under his metaphorical wing and protecting her, guiding her, and welcoming her into his chaotic Boothy world in which she was more than a spectator, but an active participant, occasionally against her better judgement, but never to her disappointment.

Without explanation, tears threatened to spring free from behind her pale eyes as she studied this man, this specimen of a fine human being. She didn't know how much he had actually heard earlier in the evening. Obviously he had heard enough to drive him from the room, if only for a little while, but she didn't know if he could forgive her thoughtless words and brash decisions. She suddenly had the overwhelming need to touch him, to feel his arms around her, and with a growing lump in her throat threatening to cut off her air supply, she feared that she may have pushed him too far and lost him.

_No, he came back_, she reminded herself… _But he chose to sit out here, falling asleep in an upright position, which, incidentally is not good for his back, rather than laying down beside me, or even waking me to talk. Maybe he doesn't want to talk… Maybe he doesn't want me…_

Swallowing a sob, she did the only thing that she knew would make her worries subside. She stood up, carefully stepped over the hammock so she was also straddling it, and slowly lowered herself, leaning back against him while reaching behind herself to unclasp his hands and pull his arms around her waist. She felt him stir awake and as if he had forgotten the drama from earlier that night, his grip on her instinctively tightened and he hummed against her neck, pulling her closer as he subconsciously prepared to slip back into sleep. But then, she felt his posture change, and while he didn't pull away, the strong circle of his arms loosened as he took a sharp breath, the gentle ocean breeze pulling him into consciousness.

She turned her head, pressing her cheek against his shoulder and her forehead into the side of his neck. Weaving her fingers with his, she pulled him tighter again. Unable to keep her tears at bay, she swallowed thickly and broke the silence.

"I've made a terrible mistake, Booth." Her confession was whispered, almost as if she was afraid that putting the words out there made her error in judgement so much more real.

Misunderstanding her statement, Booth assumed she was referring to her decision to enter into this new phase of their relationship, and frankly, he didn't have the energy to argue with her about it at that moment. He heaved a gentle sigh, tugging his hands free of hers with a little effort, and resting them lightly on her hips instead.

"Bones," he let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling of the balcony. "Can we argue about this tomorrow?"

Glancing over her shoulder, she wrinkled her brow in confusion. "My intention was not to instigate an argument, Booth…" She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it briefly, flicking her eyes between his. "I just…"

"Bones, I know you think that our relationship was a mistake," he resigned himself to defending their romance while having had minimal sleep and still being predominantly intoxicated. "But you've never been more wrong about anything…"

Pushing up from where she straddled the hammock, Brennan about-faced and threw her leg over the mesh once again, facing him with a determined expression as she sat back down. Steeling her emotions, the scientist was determined to maintain her composure long enough to make her partner understand the emotional roller coaster on which she had found herself earlier.

"Booth," she rested her hand lightly on his forearm. "That's what I'm talking about." She flexed her fingers, subconsciously appreciating the play of his muscle beneath her touch. "That stuff that you heard earlier? I didn't mean it… You weren't meant to hear that."

Recognizing that it was wrong of him to have eavesdropped, he dropped his eyes to where she was touching him. He placed his hand over hers gently. "I'm sorry I didn't make my presence known, Bones. I was coming up to check on you, to see if you were okay…" He tilted his head and inhaled slowly. "But then…"

"It's alright," she had forgiven him the minute she'd heard his door close. "Booth, my mistake was trying to convince myself that…" This was difficult for her to say, to admit aloud. "I was afraid to think…" Her frustration was evident in her inability to speak a coherent thought and she didn't bother to stop the tear that escaped without permission. "I wasn't ready to allow my personal sense of well-being to be contingent upon another's… But it was foolish of me to even entertain the idea that I don't belong with you..." She heard his breath hitch and saw a quick wave of relief cross behind his dark eyes. "If you can forgive me, I…" She fought against another mutinous teardrop that threatened to fall from the corner of her eye.

He reached out and pulled her to his chest, crushing her in a powerful embrace, tucking her head beneath his chin. The seating was awkward as they still faced each other in the hammock, but neither cared. Booth's hand swept down her spine and settled low, just above the swell of her bottom, while his other palm cupped the back of her neck. Breathing her in, he let his body relax back against the mesh as he burrowed his nose into her bed-mussed hair. He wasn't sure what had happened between the time he stormed from the room after hearing her plans to end things, and the time he came back and found her sleeping in his bed, but he was thankful that they weren't arguing. The agent knew they had things to discuss, namely her emotional state when the band played that iconic song, but there was no doubt that they had time to talk. When he felt her body sink against his, he shifted a bit so she could turn slightly sideways and still lay atop his body. A quiet sniffle reached his ears as she struggled to control her emotions and he pressed a kiss on her temple.

"Shhh…" He whispered softly against the side of her head, resuming his slow and steady strokes along the length of her back. "We're okay, Bones…"

The next quiet sob was one of relief as she slipped her arm around his bare torso and nuzzled further into his natural warmth. "Booth…" She suddenly wanted to say so much, wanted to tell him about her epiphany, the revelation that made her realize just how much she wanted to be with him, but she was quieted by his thumb as it swept around from holding her neck and dragged along her bottom lip.

"Baby," he spoke against her forehead, seemingly reluctant to put much distance between himself and his partner. "We'll talk in the morning, okay?" When she pulled back to look up at him, he was certain she could see his own emotions reflected in his dark eyes. "Let's go in and get some sleep, huh? I just wanna hold you tonight."

Nodding, Brennan seemed to understand his desire to delay their necessary talk until they both had clear heads and a bit of sleep. When they extracted themselves from the tangle of arms and legs, and from the wrapping sensation of the mesh hammock, she led the way back into his room, going straight to his bed and crawling between the sheets. When he extended his arm to her, she took her favorite position against his shoulder and hummed in appreciation. Just before sleep claimed her, and as she knew that he, too, was succumbing to his exhaustion, she muttered sleepily, her lips just above the distinct, puckered scar that marred his chest.

"Perhaps when we talk tomorrow," she pressed a tired kiss to his pectoral muscle, "you can explain why you have a trace of fuchsia lipstick on your earlobe and smell of a woman's cheap perfume…"

Instantly awake, his eyelids flew open as his heart pounded in his ribcage. "It's not what you think," he tried to look down at her, but she was comfortably settled.

"I think that some woman tried to kiss you…" she mumbled and tightened her arm around his waist. "But I know you, Booth. And more importantly, I trust you…" She was tired, and warm, and contented… And she no longer wanted to talk; she simply wanted to sleep in the arms of the man who had broken down her barriers.

**Postscript A/N **

**JazzyMuse was gunna make everyone wait for a resolution - she wanted Booth to stay out all night brooding, but I had a little heart-to-heart with her and advised against such a storyline. I think it turned out OK. **

**I'd like to send a little nod at FaithInBones for inspiring the passage about Booth's understated abilities of observation. Thanks for being such a prolific and supportive fanfic writer, my friend. **

**Thanks again to everyone for your patience, I'll try to do better with my posting schedule. It's just hard with my job and family. **

**peace &amp; love, my friends, **

**~jazzy **


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N Hello and welcome back. **

**So, here in the States, and for those of you elsewhere who stream the most recent episodes online, our favorite show has sadly come to an end. *sniff* All good things must end… it helps us recognize what is good in the world and what is, well, questionable...**

**Over the last several seasons, I've been one of those fans who has openly voiced my dislike of many of the directions in which episodes were driven, or the lack of continuity of storylines and/or poor scripts, but that shouldn't cause anyone to doubt my loyalty to the show and to the characters that were introduced to us 12 seasons ago. I started watching BONES when the pilot aired in September 2005, and despite what people may think, based solely on some of my tweets, I loved BONES. **

**I just want to say something really quick, in response to a comment made to me in a review, which was in response to a tweet I made several months ago… I never suspected anyone would hold onto something I said for so long, and with such a grudge...**

**BONES is a **_**fictional **_**show, with **_**fictional **_**characters **_**portrayed **_**by **_**real life people who have families**_ **of their own. I will never change my opinion that it is disrespectful to *ship* DAVID AND EMILY, and my respect for them as real life individuals does not mean that I do not support the show or the characters. Of course I *ship* Booth and Brennan, I write fanfic under the M-rating for fuck's sake… OF COURSE, I want to see B&amp;B together, why the hell would I be writing this if I didn't? David is not Booth, Emily is not Brennan. Do not accuse me of being disingenuous in my treatment of the characters just because I understand how the real world works and you do not… **

**Reviews are intended to be a vehicle by which readers can leave feedback for a writer about what worked or didn't work in a story or specific passage; they are not meant to serve as a means for readers to anonymously attack an author for a personal opinion voiced elsewhere. **

**OK, so with that ugliness out of the way, now I can move on to the more pleasant stuff.**

**This chapter is shorter than the last, but I wanted to post it once I reached a relatively acceptable stopping point because I know you all hate my slow posting schedule. I promise I post as often as I can, based on my schedule... Thanks for still following this story and for your support. I hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing, just this idea. **

Booth woke to the unwelcome feeling of an empty bed, but was quickly soothed by the very pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Cracking one eye open, he grunted at the bright light and spotted his partner standing impatiently in front of his in-room coffee maker, waiting for it to finish percolating so she could pour a steaming cup of java into the standard disposable hotel-logo cup against which she was nervously drumming her fingers. When he shifted so he could see her better, her attention was drawn to him and he greeted her worried expression with a tired smile.

"Hey," his voice was like sandpaper, not yet ready to communicate despite his desire to talk to his partner.

"I'm sorry I woke you," she responded quietly. "It's still early. You can go back to sleep if you want, Booth."

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he shook his head. "Why're you up so early, Bones?" He glanced at the bedside clock, noting that it was only six-ten in the morning. "We didn't get to bed 'til three-somethin'…"

Brennan moved over to her side of the king sized mattress and eased into place, her back against the headboard as she folded her legs beneath her, lotus style. "I just couldn't sleep…"

Booth eyed her silently for a moment, taking in her exhausted and sad demeanor. Swiping his hand down his face, the agent forced himself to wake up so he could better focus on his girl. "D'you have a nightmare?"

Wordlessly, she shook her head and focused intently on the dark liquid in her cup as she held it above her lap. When his wide hand settled on her thigh, she pulled her attention away from the mesmerizing swirl of the non-dairy creamer that hadn't quite blended into her beverage. "No," she finally answered. "Not really."

"Not really a nightmare… But a disturbing _dream_, perhaps?" He was usually pretty good at deciphering Brennan-ese, and this time was no different. He watched as a stormy expression passed behind her eyes when she met his gaze.

With a single nod she answered his question and looked back down at her cup, hoping to find the courage to speak. She was granted a few minutes respite when her partner grunted under his breath as he pushed himself upright. The anthropologist observed his movements knowingly as Booth stretched his body methodically in an effort to gain the cooperation of his war torn joints and bones. Once he was confident he would be able to push to his feet, he did so.

"Gimme a minute, Baby." He padded off towards the bathroom to take care of his morning business and brush his teeth. Having smelled the minty freshness radiating from Brennan, he also wanted to be fresh so he could kiss her properly.

While he was conducting an abbreviated version of a typical morning ritual, Brennan got up and prepared a cup of coffee for him, placing it on his bedside stand before returning to her side and better adjusting the pillow at her back. She was feeling particularly self-conscious about her actions the previous evening, despite the fact that he had eventually joined her in bed and held her tenderly through the wee hours of morning as they slept. When he exited the bathroom, looking surprisingly awake after obviously washing his face, she simply nodded towards the coffee cup, saving him the trouble of fixing his own morning joe.

"Ah, thanks, Bones." He took a slow swallow, enjoying that first sip of the sweetened bitter liquid, humming at the perfect balance of sugar and cream. "Mm, perfect," he winked at his bed partner, leaning closer and placing a soft kiss on her equally soft lips.

His affection gave her a little more hope, provided a scant bit more courage to face what she knew was going to be an emotionally draining morning. Taking advantage of his willingness, she followed his mouth when he tried to pull back, encouraging another kiss, this one just a little stronger. When he didn't resist, it was her turn to hum in appreciation, enjoying the sensation of his mouth covering hers.

After a moment, maybe two, he broke the connection gradually and changed his position, so he was sitting beside her, their shoulders touching lightly. The pair remained quiet, sipping coffee and leaning against one another. Booth purposely avoided breaking the silence that had enveloped them, knowing that she was still organizing her thoughts. He always knew that whenever she was ready to speak, she would…

Finally placing her cup on her nightstand, she folded her hands on her lap and inhaled slowly.

"That song…" There was no doubt he would know to what she was referring, so she was saved from having to include unnecessary details. "It took me back there…"

He listened to her measured words and cautious cadence, understanding that she was still working through things in her mind. Wanting to show support while not interrupting, he simply reached over and took her hand, waiting to hear what else she wanted to say.

"I haven't listened to it since that night… I haven't been able to." She wove her fingers between his, studying their contrasting pigments carefully, admiring the size difference as his hand practically swallowed hers. "I even threw away the CD…" She was grateful when Booth's thumb swept across her's, indicating that he was listening but that he was giving her the freedom to talk.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Booth… I shouldn't have left like I did last night." Before he could interrupt with what she knew would be a rebuttal to his state of humiliation, she plowed forward. "I should have quietly excused myself, and I never should have sent you away… And… _Please_ believe me, I didn't mean those other things that you heard me say," finally she raised her eyes to meet his dark irises. "I _want_ this, Booth… I want you… I want _us_."

He pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss against the backs of her fingers. Reaching out, he plopped his empty cup on the table unceremoniously and tugged her a little closer, until he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. When she came to him willingly, he sighed and kissed her forehead.

Feeling the need to continue, she spoke as she leaned into his strong torso. "I have never experienced such feelings as I did last night… I know now, with even more certainty than before, that my happiness, my contentment, is contingent on my relationship with you…" She licked her lips slowly. "I find that reality leaves me feeling," she searched for the word, unsuccessful in her endeavor. Shrugging, Brennan shook her head. "I felt… Raw and…" She was currently feeling ashamed… Here she was, a New York Times bestselling author multiple times, and her vocabulary was stunted to the point of bumbling silence. Huffing in frustration, she fought back a new wave of tears.

Booth rocked her gently and spoke into her still-bed-messed hair. "Scared? Maybe even vulnerable?"

"Yes!" Her eyes widened and she turned to look up at him. "Exactly…" She kissed his stubbly cheek quickly and confirmed his suggestion. "I haven't felt like that since I was a teen in the system…" She thought for a second. "This was _different_, but the _same…_"

Nodding, he pulled her against him again, understanding her better than she thought he might. "I get it, Bones… It's hard to allow yourself be vulnerable to someone else…"

"But, Booth… You didn't deserve the treatment I gave you… Even though I was feeling weak, you still deserved respect…" She wiped away a tear before he felt of drop to his chest. "I'm so sorry…"

Breathing slowly, Booth thought about what Mickey had said the night before, about Brennan having flash-back type reactions. The former sniper slowly drew another parallel between his partner's experience and her disdain of anything remotely resembling personal weakness, and his own history. When he was fairly sure she was done speaking for a few minutes, he cleared his throat.

"I met Mickey in the Army," he stated quietly.

Brennan's brow wrinkled, "yes, I know. You mentioned that to me when you introduced us." She wondered how Booth would have forgotten already.

He nodded, silently organizing his thoughts. "When I was in Basic Training," he began slowly, never before having shared any of the upcoming information with another soul. "I was singled out pretty early on when the platoon's Junior Drill Sergeant noticed that I had a knack for shooting once they put a rifle in my hand…" When her breathing became quiet, he knew he had her attention. "I then drew the attention of the _Senior_ Drill Sergeant, who'd been hovering behind me one afternoon on the range. He interrupted me, drawing my focus to a series of targets several hundred yards beyond those we were training on. He instructed me on which ones he wanted me to hit and just stepped back to watch." Booth measured his breathing, as if reliving the memory of the hardass Sergeant standing behind him, watching as a young Seeley Booth nailed each target on the first try. "At the time I didn't realize I was being singled out. I assumed it was all just part of our training and that the rest of my platoon would be instructed to do the same…" He shifted his focus, looking at his lover as she listened attentively, leaning against the front of his shoulder. "It wasn't standard…. Not at all. Once I completed the orders, he pulled me from the line to follow him… He led me to his office… I had never been to the Officers Building and I thought I'd done something wrong… I didn't understand why he pulled me away from my guys…"

Brennan felt like she was listening to a brilliantly woven tale, the type of story that a novelist struggles to compose. But she knew this was no fictional body of work… this was her partner's _actual_ story, one which he'd never offered to share. Suddenly she felt awash with affection for her warrior and wrapped her arm across the front of his abdomen, lining her legs up alongside his, still listening intently. Her partner had always been very private and secretive about his history since the beginning of their partnership, so she really knew very little of his early military training.

Booth knew her position shift was not a sign of impatience or disinterest. There was never a doubt in his mind that she wanted to hear his story. And oddly enough, now that he started talking, he realized that he finally had someone to whom he _wanted_ to let into this portion of his past.

"He invited me to sit, which I thought was pretty odd….we were used to standing at attention while being reprimanded. But he didn't start yelling at me, or lecturing me about something I didn't understand. Instead, he questioned me about changing my focus." When Brennan's brow was drawn into a familiar 'V', he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead, smoothing her skin. "Y'see, I'd already declared an intent to become an MP, 'cause, y'know," he shrugged one shoulder, "I've always had a desire to uphold the law on some level… and I guess I wanted to follow Pops' lead… But my Sergeant saw a talent I didn't know I had…"

"I was put into an accelerated program, finished Basic in a fraction of my remaining time. I was fast-tracked to Ranger Academy with an emphasis in Sniper Training, shipped off to Airborne School…. I trained with Delta Force and was picked up by Special Forces… My career path eventually resulted in being assigned as a sniper in the 101st Airborne Division… _I was a fuckin' Ranger_," he mused, almost in disbelief. "Sometimes I look back and wonder how it all happened…"

Brennan turned her eyes up and watched as Booth got lost in a memory. She remained quiet, studying his expressions from her perch against his bicep. He wasn't quiet for very long before he continued.

"Then one day, before I knew anything was happening, I was shipping out to the Middle East… I was assigned to Mickey's unit… they were down one man." He licked his lips. "Found out later their primary sniper went AWOL… Started t'have issues dealing with the stress… His remains were found a few weeks afterwards…. Poor bastard shot himself… Took his own life because he couldn't take the pressure anymore…." Booth swallowed his emotions, fully aware of his own PTSD symptoms, and sadly understanding how such a travesty could happen at a time when the disorder wasn't even acknowledged. He said a quick prayer for Duncan Yates, a man he'd never met but whose ghost haunted and followed him while he was on that first tour.

"I'm sorry, Booth." Brennan could see the storm waging behind Booth's dark eyes and felt his arm tense beneath her head.

Her voice pulled Booth from his inner-thoughts, anchoring him to the here-and-now, and he shifted his gaze to her. As his molten eyes moved across her pale features, he was, yet again, struck speechless by her mere presence in his life…. She'd never understand how much she meant to him, how important she was in maintaining balance in his chaotic, Boothy universe. She would never grasp how much he loved her for calming his racing heart, easing his fears, and soothing the wild, aching need to lash out against something _-anything_\- even as far back as the very beginning of their friendship. She would never know because he couldn't find the words to tell her…

Seeing unshed tears behind his warm brown eyes, Brennan raised her cool palm to his cheek, sensing there was so much more to her partner's story, but that he just needed to breathe for a moment. She remained silent, her thumb stroking along his zygomatic bone and eventually, her fingertips traced a line across his furrowed brow and down the straight line of his nose until she reached his lips. When his mouth puckered and pressed a kiss to the pads of her fingers, she felt her own tears slipping from the corner of one eye. Leaning up, she replaced her index finger with her lips and kissed him softly, slowly… tenderly. When they pulled apart, she allowed him to rest his forehead against hers, breathing each other in without words.

Eventually, Booth broke the silence, his voice thick, but he was determined to get to the point of his recollection.

"One day, it was a Tuesday, we received some intel… _and_ an assignment to complete…. Four of us left camp… Mickey, Hank, a guy named Bobby Miller and myself…"

"Hank? You mean Hank Lutrell?"

"Yeah." He had introduced Brennan to his friend several years before, and even took her to Hank's house a couple times for Sunday dinner, but he never revealed anything specific about his time serving with the man who had become more than just another Army buddy. "Hank and I didn't know each other before I was assigned there, but we clicked pretty early on. Like with Mickey…"

She nodded in understanding, wondering about the fourth man, Bobby Miller, about whom she'd never heard her best friend speak.

"So, we were approaching the zone… something didn't feel right… I chalked it up to it being the first real assignment I'd had with these guys…. I thought maybe the adrenaline pumping through my veins was just causing me to doubt my own instincts. I mean, I was younger than these other three guys…. Surely they had more experience and would be better aware if something was wrong…" He swallowed the lump in his throat feeling the tension rolling off his partner as she listened to his story.

"We hunkered down a safe distance apart from one another…. Me an' Hank, Mickey and Bobby… we were scanning the horizon for our target, but it was so quiet… Motionless... Everything was _too_ still, too empty... The hairs on the back of my neck were on end, and finally, Hank leaned my way and whispered, so soft I could barely hear it over the blood pumping in my own ears, but it validated my own feelings... '_I don't like this… something's wrong…'_ And sure enough," he shivered in memory, "something was very, _very_ wrong."

Brennan shifted, unable to continue lounging against him as he recalled these visions, his experiences. She sat up straighter, turning to face him completely, and took his hand, pulling it to her lap and wordlessly encouraging him to continue.

Looking into her pale orbs, Booth reached deep inside himself for the courage to discuss the outcome of their failed mission, to open up about something he'd never verbalized to someone outside his unit, not even to the countless shrinks who tried to coax it out of him.

"Before Hank could even take a breath after whispering his own apprehension, they were on top of us. We were outnumbered three-to-one, and taken by complete surprise. If we'd had some forewarning, we would've had a helluva chance, even with the difference in numbers… our weapons were superior, in a man-to-man fight, we certainly could have out-muscled them… but we didn't have the opportunity." He licked his lips again, squeezing her fingers with his. "The intel we received… it was bad, we were certain of it. _Tainted_. But we could never prove it…"

"Oh my God…"

"They disarmed us, hog-tied and hauled us into a shithole camp. Bobby, he was mouthy… always letting his attitude get him in trouble, even with our own guys when we were shooting hoops or shootin' the shit... But he was a crackerjack sniper, lemme tell ya, a legend in the making…. Well, he started mouthing off and making threats to our captors… Mickey kept ordering him to shut his mouth, to _just shut the fuck up_, but he didn't listen, didn't obey…."

Brennan knew what was coming… she didn't _want_ to know, but she couldn't _not_ know… _and she hated it_… Scooting impossibly closer, she let her knees rest against his thigh and gripped his hand tighter, pulling it into the warmth of her torso, as if trying to convince and remind them both that he was there with her...safe, alive and loved.

"They made an example of Bobby…." He was staring at their conjoined hands, unable to look into her eyes for fear that she would've been able to see the reflections of the horrible images that still haunted his worst nightmares. He didn't _want_ her to know those scenes… never wanted to expose her to the pain he felt… he only wanted her to hear his message.

"The mother fuckers made us watch for two goddamn days while they tortured him... taking pieces of his dignity away as they broke body parts and threatened to find his family if he didn't give them the information they wanted… They tried using him against us, trying to make us break under similar, though slightly less intense torture methods." Finally he raised his eyes and met hers. "Less intense until the third day, Friday, when God finally, _mercifully _let Bobby die, and they turned their evil attentions to Hank…"

She shuddered to think about what the men had been through. Her chest ached at the memory of asking her partner why Hank was in a wheelchair and he replied curtly, with a dark glint replacing his usually-warm gaze, _he got hurt_…. She felt such shame at her own curiosity that she had tried to research the Federal Judge, only to give up when firewall after firewall stopped her research, even with her high level security clearance. She didn't try to stop the tear from rolling down her cheek.

"They beat Hank fiercely, beating Mickey and me in between, but keeping us conscious so we could witness our comrade slipping away. They…" He was tempted to recount the metal bars that were swung in rapid succession against Hanks spine, the way Mickey had been chained upright, facing his friends as unmentionable things were done, and the rubber hoses that had been taken to the bottoms of his own feet while heavy kicks from the enemy soldiers rained down against his ribs, kidneys, knee caps and skull…. He thought about the sleep deprivation methods used to force the men to all remain conscious and overly aware of their dire situation… But, looking into her wide, stormy oceans, Booth realized that confessing such things, sharing these horrors, was unnecessary. She had seen torture, not first hand, thank God, but she knew the routines and ultimately, the results, and voicing them would be of no benefit for either of them… that wasn't the point of his plan.

"They kept it up for another two days until a troop of US Marines located us. It was actually by mistake, like divine intervention, that they stumbled upon the makeshift village, 'cause it wasn't on anybody's radar… the houses and tents didn't exist according to all the grids and intel..."

_Divine_ _intervention_, she thought with a scowl. Brennan wanted to ask where his God was when they were captured to begin with... Why his God _allowed _a good man to die and another to become paralyzed at the hands of their enemy... And _why the hell_ did his God make them wait for five, maybe six (?), bone-shattering days before intervening! She was angry, sick, _outraged_ at the notion that even after everything her partner had endured and witnessed, he still accepted the mythology of a story book written hundreds of years after the death of a delusional individual, whether fictional or not, who spewed the rantings of a madman, claiming to be the blessed offspring of an outrageously selfish and tyrannical higher power! She struggled with herself _not_ to challenge his beliefs, even in that moment, to admit that if a person were alive today, claiming to have the power to make the blind see again and the lame rise and walk, that _even he _would suspect the individual to be crazy and lock him in an asylum. But instead of instigating an argument when her partner was finally opening a part of himself up to her, the scientist reminded herself that if Booth didn't believe in those things, he simply wouldn't be _Booth_. And she loved the man that he was.

"Those guys… the ones that found us… Once all the chaos of the takeover settled, and medics were brought in to extract us… I couldn't even look at 'em." Booth thought back to that day. He was so exhausted, in so much pain… They all were. And looking back, he was ashamed at the lack of respect he'd given their rescuers. "They saved my friggin' life and I couldn't even look them in the eyes and thank them…"

Brennan was confused at Booth's revelation. In her experience, he had always been gracious to people who've helped him. The idea that he would _not _thank the soldiers who saved him was almost unfathomable.

"I don't understand, Booth…"

He looked down at her, his eyes full of emotion and turmoil. "I hadn't been that vulnerable since I was a kid… Not since my old man sent me to the hospital for getting a D on my report card."

Brennan felt like she'd been struck, this was yet another tale that she'd never heard. When he continued, however, she knew that it would be a story for another day.

"It took me a long time to understand that it was alright to be vulnerable sometimes…" He searched her eyes, looking for comprehension. "Those soldiers, they wouldn't have thought less of us, of me, for weeping when we finally realized we were saved… But in the moment, I'd been so preoccupied with mentally processing everything that'd happened to us… and dealing with the agony… and hearing the medic who was helping Hank say that his spine appeared to've been broken…" He swallowed thickly. "After everything, I felt like displaying any kind of weakness, y'know, _especially _a Ranger showing emotion to a friggin' _Jarhead_, that it would reflect poorly on my character." Swallowing again, Booth forced the lump in his throat down.

He took a slow, shaky breath. "For me, it was a slow, _painful _journey before I realized it was alright to be vulnerable around people I could trust, Bones." He tugged her hand, pulling her body to his as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It took a lot of therapy, and a _shitload _more arguments with Pops, and even with Hank, before I learned it was my goddamn pride getting in my way…" Pressing a kiss into her hair, he spoke quietly. "I don't want you to ever feel like you're not safe, Baby. I don't want you to think that you need to be brave when you're having a weak moment. Everyone experiences those times, and I promise you, I would never think less of you for struggling with your emotions… or for being disturbed by a traumatizing experience, even if it was something that happened years ago. Lord knows I still break out in a cold sweat whenever I hear certain sounds or smell distinct scents..." He knuckled her chin so she would look up at him, and he spoke softly. "But I do have just _one _tiny request."

Her wide, pale eyes searched his, finding a veritable roller coaster of emotions behind the deep, dark wells. Wordlessly, she nodded.

"Please don't shut me out, Bones. Even if you just want to sit quietly and not talk, let me sit beside you…"

Brennan understood the motive behind Booth's very personal reflection, and she knew that by opening himself up in order to help her understand that there was no shame in being vulnerable and scared, he was demonstrating his ultimate trust in her as well. He had, over the years, shared brief glimpses into his time in the Army, and he spoke quietly of some of the difficult decisions he'd made while under orders, but never had he gone into such detail about his time as a POW. The scientist was suddenly swimming, _drowning_ in her own emotions, unable to speak, unable to look away…

Sitting upright with a start, she pulled away from her partner, but only for a split second before she was repositioning herself, straddling his thighs and facing him. She placed her open palms on his cheeks, grateful that he was there so she could touch him, thankful that he hadn't been taken from her before she even had a chance to meet him, to become his partner. Brennan didn't bother to stop the tears that were leaking from the corners of her eyes, there was no need to hide herself from him. Slowly, gingerly, she trailed her fingertips down past his jaw, following her own movements with her eyes, as her sensitive receptors mapped the sides of his neck and over the expanse of his shoulders. When she reached the downward slopes that would lead her fingers towards his biceps, she changed course and followed the lines of his clavicles until her nimble phalanges met at his fossa jugularis sternalis, _the suprasternal notch in the vernacular_. Finally pressing her hands flat against his chest, she raised her gaze again, finding his intense attention focused on her, tracing the contours of her features with subtle shifts of his rich irises.

Tilting her head, she shifted as close to his torso as she could. "I promise, Booth," her voice sounded raw, full of emotion. "And I'm sorry that I gave you reason to doubt me."

Sliding his own palms up her thighs until they settled beneath her sleep shorts and on the soft curves of her hips, he gave her a lopsided, gentle smile. "I never doubted you, Bones…" He sighed, somewhat ruefully. "I guess I might've doubted myself a little, but I never doubted _you…_" He winked and jostled her a bit. "You're a certified genius…. I'd be a fool to doubt you… and if there's one thing I'm not, it's a fool." And just like that, the twinkle in his eyes returned along with a wider upward lilt of his lips.

She chuckled at his ability to switch modes so fluidly, and on some level, she assumed this was just one of the reasons she had _metaphorically_ fallen so deeply for her very own knight-in-standard-FBI-issued-armor. Leaning forward, she pressed a warm kiss to his mouth, humming at the simultaneously new and familiar sensations of actually being _allowed _to kiss him. When she felt his warm palms slide further into the legs of her shorts, so he could cup her bottom, she mewed softly, a sound that was quickly swallowed by her partner and answered with a feral growl.

The tender moment turned heated in record time and before she knew it, his wide hands were exploring the bare skin he discovered beneath the pajama pants, pulling her forcefully against his body. There was definitely no doubt about the way his body was responding to her femininity, not to mention their proximity and heavy kisses, as she felt him swell beneath her, the hard length of him pressing against her inner thigh, trying to break free of his prison-like boxers. Instinctively, her hips began to move, and when he changed focus and attempted to remove her tank top, she temporarily forgot how to raise her arms until he growled again and dragged his mouth from her's, threatening to tear the shirt clean off her body if she didn't cooperate.

Booth bunched the soft material in his fists, tugging it up her body, suddenly starving to see all of her... to touch all of her… and, _oh_, _yes please_, he thought, to _taste_ all of her… Once he had successfully divested her of the unnecessary barrier, he paused, taking in her clear eyes, flushed cheeks and the pretty pink blush that had spread across her upper chest. Reaching up, he cradled her jaw tenderly and brought their mouths together, speaking against her soft lips reverently.

"I love you, Bones. Don't ever forget that." His thumb caught a disobedient tear that had escaped in response to his declaration, and he kissed the salty trail until he came back to her mouth, where he nipped breathlessly. Swallowing her mewling response, the agent felt his body jolt as soon as she shifted her center of gravity, ultimately shifting her _center _tighter against his... When her radiating heat penetrated through their two layers of clothes, his hips thrust upward on instinct alone and his wide hands palmed her waist, holding her steady.

Brennan let herself get lost in the sensations of Booth's ministrations. The welcome strokes of his calloused fingers… the chills caused by his tongue and nipping teeth… the guttural, primal grunts that served as responses to her own explorations and wandering hands… It was a sensory overload and before she knew what was happening, he had their bodies flipped and she was sprawled out on the mattress beneath his powerfully commanding body. His strength and natural masculinity left her speechless when he pulled back and looked down at her. Watching his dark eyes studying her, Brennan felt an inexplicable warmth spread through her body, starting somewhere mid-torso and radiating outward until her limbs, fingers and toes all tingled with anticipation.

Booth supported his weight on his elbows and slowly pushed up until he was sitting on his haunches, looming above his partner's prone, nearly naked body. His hungry, lust-filled eyes raked down the long length of Brennan's lithe body. With itching palms and twitching fingers, Booth felt one corner of his lips curl upward as his gaze continued following the curves and valleys, the addictive swells that were permanently burned into his mind's eye after only a few evenings together… Slowly, he reached forward, edging his fingertips along the elastic band of her flimsy sleep shorts. Moving at a determined, painfully slow pace, he slipped his thick fingers beneath that waistband, meeting her eyes silently. The anthropologist helpfully raised her hips slightly from the mattress, inviting Booth to remove them completely, at which he smirked and complied, sliding the soft material down her legs while shuffling backwards until he reached her ankles.

Seeley Booth had seen many naked women in his life, he'd been involved with a number of attractive, independent women, but he was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he'd never witnessed a more pure, radiant beauty than the one Temperance Brennan was permitting him to gaze upon in that very instant. There were no unspoken veils behind her soul-swallowing eyes, no secrets, no unwarranted shy expressions… She was laid out before him, like a goddess, not unlike Venus herself, opening herself up to him in ways that far surpassed physicality.

And she was breathtaking, stunning… She was his soulmate, even if she refused to believe in such things... And the speechless Special Agent intended to show her just how much he treasured everything that made her _His Bones_.

In a slow, passionate tangle of arms and legs, the partners caressed and stroked one another, whispering assurances and promises, words meant only for lovers. After sending her hurdling over the edge twice, once at the talented ministrations of his fingers and once as his tongue licked at her, lapping up everything she'd give to him as he growled in carnal appreciation, he moved up so he was hovering above her panting, flushed body. His lips sucked against her skin lightly as he moved, leaving wet trails in his wake and causing her sensitive body to shudder deliciously in response. As he nuzzled against the crook of her neck, nipping and kissing, his hands swept along her body in unison. Eventually, he found her wrists and glided his thick, calloused fingers against her delicate palms, ultimately threading them between the much thinner, feminine fingers, weaving their hands together while pulling her arms up above her head and sinking them into the fluffy pillow. Arching his neck, he looked down into her pale gaze as she tried to focus on his face from beneath heavy lids.

"I love making you shatter, Bones. I love the sounds you make," he dipped his head again, scraping his teeth along her jawline until he reached her earlobe, where he suckled gently. "I love the way your body moves and surges…" Booth shifted his hips until he was perfectly aligned against her center, where he allowed himself to rub against her warmth without penetration just yet. Running his nose along her hairline, he inhaled the sweet scent that was uniquely _her_ and tightened his grip on her hands. "And you taste _fucking amazing_, Temperance…"

His voice was husky, his heavy desire for her obvious, and Brennan couldn't have stopped the throaty, hungry whimper if she'd tried… She writhed beneath him, relishing the feel of his much larger frame covering her body, protecting her, _possessing her_ in ways that she _never_ allowed another man to do. She longed to feel him completely, to once again experience the sensation of his body opening her up in the most primal, ancient of ways. Somewhere deep inside, she yearned to be claimed by him, _to belong to him,_ despite her long-time, well-documented history of denial and refusal to acknowledge such notions of possession...

When Booth heard his partner's non-verbal grunts and intoxicating moans, a smug expression threatened to break free, so he buried his face against her neck lest she take notice. The fact that his loquacious partner was nothing more than a blubbering mass of silky soft skin and sturdy bones, _and the knowledge that __**he **__was the one who did that to her_, was simply too satisfying to quell the arrogance from swelling up from deep down in the alpha-male's chest.

"Booth…please..." she whispered, trying in vain to find the words to convey her desires. "I… I need…" When his tongue traced a path back down the long column of her neck until he reached the soft hollow of her throat, all coherent thoughts escaped her mind, leaving her to hum and mewl in response.

"Tell me what you need, Bones," he spoke against her moist skin, causing her flesh to pucker in chills. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything… I'll give you _everything…_"

Flexing her fingers against his and feeling the power in his arms as they pinned her limbs against the pillow, Brennan uncharacteristically relished the sensation of having her control taken away. Breathing heavily, she nuzzled her nose against his temple, the only place she could reach in her current position, and she inhaled slowly. Somewhere in the back of her scientifically-wired brain, she recognized that Booth's distinct pheromones were sending age-old chemical signals to her body, speaking to her own hormones, subconsciously preparing her for their impending mating ritual. But in the heat of the moment, in that very instant when the anthropologist had always suspected she'd be able to control her reactions based on her expertise of the human body - her extensive knowledge and understanding of the physiological arousal created by an otherwise undetectable secretion - she silently acknowledged the truth… She was _clearly _not in control of her physiological reactions to one Special Agent Seeley J. Booth… With a quiet sigh, she thrust her hips against his.

"Make me forget…" She swallowed thickly as his thighs shifted, forcing her legs to open wider for him. "Make me forget the pain… make me forget what it felt like to lose you, Booth…"

"Baby," he pulled back and looked down at her, slowly releasing her hands so he could push up to his elbows and cradle her delicate jaw. When he saw the vulnerability reflected in her eyes, it was like all the air was sucked out of his lungs. "Bones…"

"If I lose you, Booth…" A tear escaped, dripping backwards, past her ear. "I can't...Not now… Not after this…"

Threading his fingers into her hair, pushing it back from where stray pieces stuck to her face, Booth tilted his head and palmed her thigh with his free hand. "I'm not goin' anywhere, babe. I told you before, and I'll tell you again, day after day if that's what you need... We've come too far, Bones." His grip on her leg tightened slightly, wordlessly urging her to wrap it around his hip, and when she complied, he rocked forward, slipping inside her body with a practiced ease and precision that belied the newness of their budding intimacy. Stilling his movements once he was sheathed completely, he held his breath, maintaining control so he could make his point. "This right here?" His forearm cradled her head as his torso covered hers. "This is forever, Temperance." With deliberate gentleness, he pulled out and pressed forward again, burying himself as deep as possible, feeling her body clench in response to his declaration. "You're the one. You were _always_ the one, Bones. And you always will be."

Swallowing her emotions, Brennan clutched his wide shoulders with wiry fingers, digging into the firm muscles that were protected by smooth flesh as he pressed into her body completely, repeatedly... Amidst husky promises and whispered praises, the partners transcended the plateaus they'd reached over the previous few evenings. When she shattered yet again, this time in the most ancient, primitive of ways, Booth was watching her intently, memorizing every sound, cataloging every expression and committing every nuance of her body language into a mental filing cabinet, storing it away for future reference. He kept his motions smooth and steady as she rode out the ebb and flow of the waves washing over her body and when her sated blue eyes fluttered open, when her beautiful soul was on brilliant display for him, he smiled against her mouth and increased his pace.

Brennan shifted her feet, unwrapping her legs from around his hips where she'd been urging him deeper, and placed her soles flat on the bed, allowing her to thrust up to meet him. Her body was exhausted, gratefully so, but she wanted to actively partake in his unraveling the way he'd done to her. When his finesse and rhythm faltered, she knew he was close and she nipped at his shoulder. Her sharp little teeth caused indentations on his otherwise perfect acromion as her fingernails created their own marks across his back.

"Bones," he grunted, fisting the pillowcase in one hand and the bed sheet in his other.

"Cum for me, Booth," her voice was thick, hungry, and her body surged. "Please… Make me yours… Let me be the one...always…"

She didn't believe in absolutes, he knew that as he thrust deep into her heat...

She didn't subscribe to the archaic, chauvinistic notion of ownership, he knew that, too, as he felt her walls massaging him into submission...

And yet, there she was, opening herself up to him in every possible way, giving herself to him in a fashion she knew he'd understand, value and protect.

And as he splintered, his body tensing and his eyes squeezing shut as he poured himself deep inside her, he never doubted that he'd treasure that precious gift for the rest of their lives.

And he promised himself that he'd prove his devotion to her everyday… even when she tried to push him away… or during those times when his temper was short and impatient with her literal tendencies and knack for irritating him…

He would never let her doubt his loyalty to her. _To them_...

**Postscript A/N**

**I hope this was an ok 'morning after' scene following their misunderstanding. **

**Even though Bones - the show - has ended, I know there are lots of tales still to be told, stories to be woven. I hope that folks continue to write about these characters and tell the stories we never got to see on screen. **

**I want to say that beyond my affection for the characters, I feel a deep gratitude for the show itself, for the** _**world**_ **that Bones created, which has opened the door and allowed people like myself to revisit our love for creative writing, as well as introducing those individuals who, perhaps, never considered themselves to be writers, to stretch their metaphorical wings. I've *met* so many wonderful people through this fandom, all of whom I'm certain I would have never had the opportunity to know had we not shared this common interest. Thank you, everyone, for your varying points of views, and for you encouragement to voice different opinions and thoughts in an otherwise judgmental universe. This, I believe, is the true benefit of having experienced such a show as BONES over the past 12 years. **

**peace &amp; love, my friends**

**~jazzy**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N Welcome back. Thanks for your patience and for coming back for the next installment. I know FFnet was having issues last month, but in case you missed it, I posted a new chapter in Ramblings. **

**Disclaimer: As always, I don't own anything. **

The conference break-out sessions were uneventful and, for the most part, uninteresting. The presenters delivered typical symposium messages like the benefits of information-sharing between internal departments and the importance of inter-agency cooperation when working with other divisions of law enforcement. The majority of attendees had been to so many Bureau gatherings that most could conduct the classes, even if they didn't always practice that which was preached. The newer agents, however, especially those who had only recently graduated from the Academy, tried to absorb as much information as possible, uncertain yet of what would prove useful in the field and what could be mentally discarded as convention bullshit.

Following the meetings, everyone was released for a late afternoon meal break before reconvening in the main ballroom for instructions on the day's team building exercise. As they entered, the attendees were each handed a water bottle, and each pair of partners was given a colored slip of paper. Andrew Simmons tapped on a microphone to gain the attention of the room.

"Good afternoon everyone," he nodded at no one in particular, feeling an undeniable energy in the room, as if the agents sensed they were going to participate in a different kind of activity. "I want to thank you all for your participation in this afternoon's sessions. Hopefully you found value in the lectures. Today's team building exercise is unlike the activities we've had so far." He motioned to the media team and the large televisions on either side of the stage lit up. "As you entered this afternoon, each partnership team should have been given a random color assignment. Did anyone _not _receive a card?" He scanned the room and continued when no one indicated the need for an assignment. "Great. I am confident that you will find today's activity both enjoyable and rewarding. First, I'm going to ask everyone to assemble based on your colored card. Around the edge of the room, our moderators and guides are holding up colored paper that correspond to those cards you were given. Please take a moment to find your way to the appropriate teammate."

After a short period of time during which people milled around, finding their respective corners, Simmons gained everyone's attention again. "Great," he clapped once and took a slow breath. "So, this afternoon, you will be participating in an Escape Room competition." Noticing several expressions of recognition, he was pleased that those people seemed receptive. "Each team has been randomly chosen, so you may or may not have had previous experience of working with your teammates. Points will be awarded to each partnership in the team based on the order in which your team successfully completes the challenge and escapes your room. In order to level the playing field, each of the Escape Rooms has the same theme and they all contain the same sets of clues, puzzles and ultimate goal. The process by which you come to your conclusion, however, can be, and most likely _will be_, different than that of your competitors. The volunteer with whom you now find yourself will be with you only so much as to guide you to the appropriate location and be on hand as a monitor. They are not permitted to provide advice as your team works through the puzzles. Also, utilization of electronic devices of any kind while you are attempting to escape is prohibited."

Brennan leaned towards Booth and eyed him curiously. "They're _locking_ us up?"

"It's just an exercise, Bones," Booth kept his volume low. "We did similar ones at the academy."

Satisfied with his apparent comfort level of the activity that was unknown to her, the scientist simply nodded and turned back towards the front of the room, paying attention once again to what the facilitator was saying.

Glancing around, Simmons noted that most of the crowd appeared to be intrigued by the notion of an Escape Room, and for that he was grateful. "Once your team has successfully navigated your way and escaped, you are free to go about your business for the evening. When we reconvene tomorrow, for what will be our final full day together, we will reveal the standings going into the final team event, as the points from today are calculated into the current standings." He took a quick look at his note cards, ensuring that he covered all the necessary points and tucked them back into his pocket. "So, if you will all please follow your moderator to your assigned room, the games will commence in fifteen minutes."

In a flurry of energized camaraderie, the agents filed out of the large meeting room, each group of six dutifully following their appointed leader as the teams broke off into various directions, being led to their assigned rooms from which they would need to escape.

Booth and Brennan were joined by Shaw, Soto, Williams and Mahoney. The small group fell into an easy banter as they followed their moderator, Cara, into their assigned room. The young woman recapped the rules as they walked, reiterating that she would not be permitted to assist, but that they were encouraged to work together to solve the riddles using the hidden clues. When they reached their room, they gathered around the door, watching other groups pass as they were directed to their own rooms.

Watching his former partner's group approach, Booth listened as their moderator responded to something Gray had said. Giggling at the flirtatious Marcus Gray as he playfully teased that they would enlist her as a seventh member of their team, about which they'd all swear to secrecy, she retorted with a wag of her finger, stopping the group from progressing until she said her piece.

"Agent Gray," the young lady laughed and rolled her eyes. "If I help you, you will all be disqualified from the contest." She raised an eyebrow knowingly. "And from what I've witnessed so far this week, you are all a pretty competitive bunch…. I can't imagine anyone would want to be _eliminated _from the running at this point for cheating at a challenge…" She turned and started to lead them forward again, speaking over her shoulder. "Especially _you,_ Agent Gray... You've been _very _vocal about your standings..."

Chuckling, Booth slapped his former partner on the back as he passed. "She's got your number, Gray," he chuckled as the South Carolina Agent ignored the comment, opting, instead, to smile appreciatively at Brennan and offer a halfhearted wish for luck.

Once the moderators all indicated that their teams were in place, a bell signaled the start of the game. The small group entered their room and glanced around, everyone's eyes settling on a different feature. The room was decorated in a pirate theme complete with flickering lanterns, several various sized piles containing shiny "gold" coins and jewels, a treasure chest wrapped in heavy chains and padlocks, and a skeleton dressed in tattered clothes with an ornately handled sword hanging precariously from its rib cage.

Brennan chuckled immediately, approaching the skeleton with a critical eye. "Booth," she spoke under her breath, "this is _not_ a real skeleton…"

"Gee, ya'think?" Booth smirked and rolled his eyes playfully, turning in place to take in their surroundings. His attention quickly settled on Williams and Mahoney, who were already goofing around, pulling strands of plastic, gold-colored beads from a pile and draping them around their necks, speaking in cheesy pirate accents.

Laughing at the older men, Shaw and Soto walked slowly around the compact space, wondering what it is that they were supposed to do. When their moderator stepped into the center of the room, all eyes turned to her, listening intently.

"OK, team," Cara paused until she knew that everyone was paying attention and then continued. "There are clues hidden around the room, some are obvious while others are more," she shrugged, looking for the right word, "_obscure_." She folded her hands and was consciously careful not to let her eyes rest on any of the hiding spots lest she unintentionally reveal secret locations. "The ultimate goal of this challenge is to unlock the treasure chest, a task which obviously requires one or more keys. The locations of the keys will be revealed as you work through the clues and once you've opened the treasure chest, you'll find the final puzzle that needs to be solved before I am allowed to open the door." She grinned; this activity was always her favorite of the conventions she worked. "So, I'm not allowed to assist any further," she fanned her fingers and gestured at nothing particular and shrugged. "Have fun." She turned and took her place on a chair stationed in the corner by the door, where she had a book and a bottle of water already waiting for her.

The team took another moment and just looked at each other, no one certain who should take the lead.

Finally, Mahoney jerked his chin at Booth and smirked. "OK, Hotshot," he winked playfully. "You're on. Whatcha want us to do?"

"Me?" Booth chuckled. "You guys have seniority, not us." He glanced at Shaw and Soto and considered them for a moment. "Of course," he sidled alongside Williams conspiratorially. "We could vote the newbies into the lead."

Williams eyed the ladies carefully, playing along as if this game was the most important event in the history of mankind. "They might just have the spark we need to make it through this." He nodded towards the skeleton. "I mean, we don't wanna be stuck in here so long that we end up looking like that guy…"

Misunderstanding the men, Brennan creased her brow and looked at Williams seriously. "You do realize, don't you, that is only a skeleton _replica…_ It's not the true remains of an individual." She ignored Booth's snicker and continued. "Besides, I highly doubt that any of us would remain so passive in the face of starvation that we'd allow our counterparts to suffer the fate of this imaginary individual…"

Mahoney chuckled at Brennan's dissertation and looked at Booth while speaking to everyone. "Yep, she's right. She's smart. I vote for Dr. Brennan to be our leader." Speaking quickly, he glanced around. "All in favor?"

A resounding "Aye!" was immediately chorused in response followed by gentle laughter, leaving Brennan looking confused and bewildered.

She turned towards Booth, noting his own humored expression, she wrinkled her brow. "What is he talking about, Booth?"

Placing his hand between her shoulder blades, he looked down into her pale blues. "Well, Bones. We need a leader. You were just elected by unanimous vote."

"But, I didn't vote," she argued.

"Ahh, only a slight technicality, Bones." He winked. "I can think of no one else here better suited to give orders." He chuckled when she frowned at him. "Don't worry, it's just a formality. We'll all pitch in," looking at the rest of their team, he gained their agreement. "See that? We all agree..." He turned around, taking in the scene. "So, where to begin…"

Brennan shrugged as she walked towards the table centered in the room. "We have an incomplete puzzle here," her eyes flicked across the wooden surface. "But no spare pieces," she looked at Booth before looking at the rest of their teammates. "Isn't that unusual, to have a puzzle without pieces?"

Shaw nodded and approached. "Perhaps our task is to locate the pieces and then, once the puzzle is completed, maybe that is our ticket out of here…"

Booth nodded at Shaw's suggestion and looked at his partner. She was studying the partially completed puzzle with interest and he recognized the look in her eyes. "Yeah, that sounds logical, doesn't it?" He asked Brennan, but she didn't answer. The others started opening drawers and searching in vases, and in other nooks and crannies that could serve as possible hiding places.

"Booth?" She spoke distractedly, still studying the puzzle as she spoke.

"Yeah?" He came and stood beside her, looking over her shoulder. "Whatcha thinking?"

"Here," she pointed to the upper right corner of the puzzle. "The coloring is off, and it's not exact, but doesn't this," she stood upright and glanced over her left shoulder, to the far side of the room, "resemble that?"

Booth eyed the only completed part of the puzzle and looked back at the corner of the room, surveying the cozy sitting area carefully. His partner was right. The coloring was off, and the arrangement not exact, but there was definitely a similarity between the two.

"Yeah, I think you're right." He looked back at her. "It's a riddle of some sort?"

"Not a riddle, Booth…" She smiled brightly. "A puzzle." She turned away and walked over to the corner and was quickly joined by Shaw, who had been searching through a pile of fake pearls and gems, looking for anything that might give a clue to their dilemma.

"Riddle, puzzle," Booth shrugged and looked at Mahoney as the older agent joined him, watching the anthropologist stand in front of the sitting area. "They're all the same, are they not?"

"You'd think…" Mahoney shrugged and spoke quietly, in a curious whisper. "She looks like she's thinking _really _hard…"

"Yeah, she gets that look when she's on the scent. Problem is, half the time I don't know what the hell the scent is." Booth laughed and took a couple long strides across until he stood on the opposite side of Shaw, staring at the arrangement silently. "What are we doing?"

"The clue is here, Booth," Brennan said and looked at him. "There has to be a reason that the only part of the puzzle that's complete imitates this room."

"Maybe," Janet interrupted as she joined her teammates, "maybe there's something hidden. Like a clue to how to finish the puzzle…"

Brennan smirked, her blues sparking at the challenge. "Or, the actual puzzle pieces." Reaching down, she lifted the cushion off the chair, looking beneath it but finding nothing. "The other puzzle pieces are probably here somewhere."

Booth smiled proudly at his partner. "Yeah, that makes perfect sense." He stepped forward and ran his hand down the back of the chair, feeling for any abnormalities. "I doubt they would make the clues impossible to find." He looked at Shaw as the younger woman studied the foot rest of the chair. "And they were pretty specific that we were not to do anything to permanently damage the furniture."

Janet approached the wall sconce and looked beneath the ornate shade from below, suddenly thankful for her short stature. "Sir?" She addressed Booth rather than reaching inside. "Look."

Booth bent over and followed her direction, grinning when he saw what she did. "Great, Soto!" He reached up and grabbed the small envelope that was taped to the artificial decor. Pulling it out, he handed it to her. "Go ahead, open it."

Accepting the outstretched manila envelope, she ripped it open and chuckled, pouring the pieces into her open palm. "Look!" The rookie looked up at her boss and then to the anthropologist who had quickly closed in.

"Let's fit them into place," Shaw said and grabbed her partner's bicep lightly. When they turned around, the four noticed Mahoney on his hands and knees, looking beneath the very same table that held the puzzle and Williams was in the opposite corner of the room, unzipping a pillowcase that was tossed on another chair.

Quickly, Brennan realized that the puzzle did actually show another chair with a throw pillow and a partial table. She nodded at the progress they were making when, with near perfect timing, both men turned to the rest of the group, triumphantly thrusting envelopes into the air.

"Here," she said, tapping the table. "Pour all the pieces out so we can see where they point us next!" She turned back to Booth with an impish smile and with what Booth would later affectionately refer to as _nerdy excitement_. "I _love _puzzles," her whisper was not at all whispered and she missed the knowing smiles her fellow teammates flashed each other.

He leaned in, as if they were the only people in the room and winked at her. "I know. So let's see your mad skills in action, huh?"

Quickly, everyone had dumped their pieces on the table unceremoniously. Immediately, Brennan started sorting them by color and shapes as Shaw began fitting the flat-edged pieces around the outside. In what Booth considered record time, the image of a chest of drawers formed as his partner pieced together corresponding shapes. Turning his attention to the only similar piece of furniture in the room, he started searching, running his hands along the press-board surface of the back and opening each of the drawers.

Mahoney and Williams took it upon themselves to simply start searching other locations in the room while Shaw and Soto worked on another section of the puzzle.

"There's gotta be something up with this mess," Williams indicated to the piles of fake jewels that were scattered around the skeleton. "But I'm not finding any pieces here." He motioned to the pile he was searching then eyed another pile. "I'll check that one next."

Mahoney nodded, studying an end table carefully. "And this too," he straightened up and fisted his hands on his hips, as he cocked his head. "The dimensions are wrong. The drawer inside is far too shallow for the size of this table, but I can't find a hidden compartment or anything..."

"The jewelry box!" Brennan pointed to another piece of further that resembled one in the puzzle that she'd just completed. Looking at Shaw, she directed the young agent. "You see what you can find there and I'll work with Janet on these," she pulled a small pile of puzzle pieces her way.

Shaw nodded, readily accepting direction from the anthropologist. The younger woman was impressed with how quickly the scientist had completed the portion on which she'd been working and wondered if this was anything similar to working a real case with the infamous duo.

"A-ha!" Mahoney found a trigger that opened a secret hiding spot in the end table he was searching. Pulling out a zip-top plastic baggie, he took it over to Brennan with a wide grin. "Here ya'go, Doc! I'll check one of these other piles of fake jewels."

"Thank you, Agent Mahoney." The fact that she didn't feel annoyed at Mahoney casually addressing her as '_Doc' _didn't escape her, but she knew she couldn't pause to analyze her feelings at that point, she had to focus on the task at hand first. She filed the curious information away in the back of her mind to discuss with Booth at a later time.

"Dr. Brennan?" Janet raised her eyes from where she was working. "This is similar to the treasure chest, but our treasure chest is locked with three locks."

Brennan studied the small section of puzzle that Janet had completed and she nodded. Raising her eyes, she looked at Booth, but spoke to the room. "The puzzle hasn't yet indicated where the key or keys are hidden. So in addition to puzzle pieces, please watch for keys that might fit the chest." Once she had Booth's acknowledgement, she assumed that everyone understood and she refocused on the pieces she was putting together. She was about to suggest that Janet search another part of the room when Booth triumphantly extracted a collection of puzzle pieces that were taped in an envelope on the underside of one of the drawers.

"Here are some more pieces, Bones." He handed the envelope to his partner, who promptly handed it to Janet for analysis as she continued to focus her attention undeterred.

Speaking to her partner, she tilted her head. "This is turning out to be the skeleton, Booth."

"Ok, I'll check to see what our desiccated matey has for us." He winked at her and started looking at the area surrounding the fake pirate, wondering momentarily how they were doing compared with some of their competitor teams. As he started lifting up pieces of shredded clothing, he heard Williams make a happy sound.

"Woo hoo," he grinned. "Glad you reminded us to look for the key, Dr. Brennan." He held up a typical skeleton key, the kind seen in all the old horror flicks, and he tossed it into the air, catching it again.

"Arrr," Booth acknowledged his friend, pointing to the chest and continued in a mock pirate accent. "Open 'er up, see what treasures be hidden within."

Laughing at their boss, Shaw and Soto looked at each other with giddy enthusiasm, getting caught up in the excitement of the game. Brennan rolled her eyes and looked at their Hoover colleagues.

"A few years ago, we had a case that was steeped in pirate folklore. Booth and Hodgins were annoyingly _exuberant_ about the whole thing…" Shifting her attention to Booth only briefly when he responded with a shocked '_**annoying?'**_, she looked back at Shaw and raised and eyebrow. "They were both under the blissfully ignorant assumptions that their pirate impressions were not only accurate, but _good…_" She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, ignoring Booth's grumbled complaints that she had _no imagination_…

Everyone's attention turned back to Williams as he inserted the key into one of the locks. Turning it slowly, he dragged out the anticipation until it was palpable. With a satisfying click, the first lock disengaged and he grinned teasingly. Extracting the key, he pressed it into the second padlock, opening it just as slowly, causing Soto to groan in eager excitement. When he finally pushed it into the third and final lock, his own partner erupted with, "would you hurry the hell up?!" Laughing, he opened the last padlock and prepared to lift the lid. When he did, however, the lid remained firmly in place.

Gathering around the small chest, everyone was surprised to see that the hinged flap on the front of the chest also had a keyhole they hadn't noticed before. It was obvious, on closer inspection, that the skeleton key that had opened the padlocks would be of no use to them in unlocking this one.

There was another key hidden in the room. _Somewhere_.

Turning her attention back to the puzzle, Brennan further sorted the pieces that Janet had been organizing. In almost timed perfection, Shaw located another pack of miscellaneous puzzle pieces taped to the back of one of the pictures hanging on the wall and Booth found a pull string bag of pieces tucked into their skeleton's abdomen.

"Looks like our guy here swallowed some clues before he met his untimely demise," he chuckled and motioned to the sword the was still embedded in the rib cage, playing into the story that had been so carefully constructed for their benefit. Handing the sack to Brennan, Booth let his eyes linger across her soft features, admiring the healthy glow in her cheeks. With a quick glance at their teammates, it was obvious to Booth that everyone was absorbed in their own search for a common purpose, he leaned closer. "You're doing great," he spoke quietly and closed the distance a little more, until he could speak against the side of her head. "And you look beautiful."

Shivering as her partner's whispered declaration ghosted against the shell of her ear, Brennan bit her lip to avoid smiling too widely. Letting her eyes dart around the room, she was grateful to see that no one noticed their interaction. Before she could reply to his blatant compliment, Booth was standing back at his full height, hands on his hips and looking around, deciding where he would search next. He was pleased with himself because he knew his words caught Brennan off guard, but he simply couldn't resist telling her what he felt.

Returning back to the skeleton, he continued searching the tattered clothing and discarded rags that were strewn around the remains. He was surprised to find just a single puzzle piece inside the mouth and tossed it to Brennan, continuing to search for anything else he may have missed.

Janet returned to the table carrying several more pieces that she had uncovered inside a zippered pillow case from one of the chairs and Mahoney found more taped under the base of a lamp.

Eyeing the newest additions to her table, Brennan estimated the number of random pieces that had joined her completed work. "There are probably only five or six pieces left," she spoke to no one in particular as she pressed one piece into another. "This next image is of an end table," she glanced up, "but Agent Williams, I believe, already located the pieces from there, correct?"

"Yeah," he replied. "But if anyone else wants to have a look, maybe I missed something."

Booth looked at his friend. "Did you pull the drawer out and look on the bottom? That's where the pieces in the dresser were when I found them."

Williams shook his head. "No, I didn't do that, I stopped after I found the secret compartment." He reapproached the end table and tugged on the drawer, pulling it from its slot. Flipping the empty prop over, he grinned, nodding at Booth knowingly. "Jackpot."

The team watched as Williams pulled an envelope from the bottom, weighing it in his palm before ripping into the flap. Pouring the contents onto the table, there were five puzzle pieces and no less than fifteen various keys.

Immediately, Brennan swept her hand across the pile and separated those items she wanted. Smiling crookedly, she shrugged when Shaw asked how she had accurately guessed there were only five pieces remaining when the puzzle was still so far from being completed in full.

Before his partner could respond, Booth piped up. "She is a genius, that's how she knew, Shaw." He was standing behind Brennan, looking over her shoulder as she sorted the newest pieces. "What else 'r'ya finding?"

"Hovering has never helped, Booth…" Her reply was distracted as she studied the pieces with a frown. "But this _is_ unusual…"

"What is?" He asked Brennan while watching Janet test each key in the treasure chest, trying in vain to open it.

"These pieces are not part of the puzzle…"

"Huh?" He looked back down and saw what she meant. Sure enough, they would not fit into the puzzle, but when put together, they displayed the letter _**P**_. Wrinkling his brow, he shoved his hands into his pockets and grunted. "What the hell does _that _mean?"

She shrugged. "I don't know… _Pirate _maybe?" Glancing around the room, Brennan looked for anything that stood out as unusual, to which the letter _**P**_ could apply. Almost as a double take, she paused her scanning and turned back to look at their moderator, who was reading a book while seated comfortably in the corner by the door. Tapping Booth's arm, she motioned with her eyes when she had his attention.

The book Cara was reading was titled '_P Is For Peril,'_ a mystery novel by Sue Grafton. Booth cocked his head sideways and smirked, speaking quietly to Brennan. "Could it be that easy?"

Brennan shrugged and approached the timid, but very pleasant young woman. "Excuse me, Cara. Are you in possession of something we need in order to gain our freedom?"

Smiling at the woman about whom she'd been vaguely warned, Cara nodded while closing her book. "I do, indeed, Dr. Brennan." She reached into her pocket and extracted the key they would need in order to open the treasure chest. "Here you go."

Smiling warmly, Brennan accepted the offering. "Thank you." She turned and walked to the rest of her team, who were gathered near the chest, and showed them the new key. "Will this one fit?" Proceeding to push the key into the slot, she successfully opened the final lock and looked at Booth. "I guess those other keys were just a distraction…"

Everyone leaned in as the scientist opened the lid and peered inside, bursting out in unified disbelieving laughter all at once. Inside were several small boxes, stacked neatly in a pyramid, _and _all of which were _locked… _

"Are you friggin' kidding me?" Maloney chuckled. "These guys don't want us to escape, they wanna drive us to drink!"

Extracting the top box, Brennan handed it to Janet. "See if any of those keys fit this. The sizes of the keys appear more congruent to these locks. They were simply too small to work the lock on the main chest."

Unable to let the opportunity pass, Booth leaned close to Brennan and spoke quietly against the back of her head. "It's not the size at matters, Bones… It's how you use it..."

She couldn't have stopped the reaction if she tried as she turned to look at her partner with self-satisfaction. "I know what that means!"

Chuckling, he reached past her and pulled out the rest of the boxes. "Good, Bones. I was hoping I wouldn't have to explain _that_ to ya."

The loud cheer drew their attention to the rest of the group as Janet successfully opened the box and dumped a few fake gold coins onto the table. All of the coins depicted a fake currency on the front and back except for one, which had the letter _**T**_ on both sides.

"Quick, open another one," Williams said as he pulled aside the odd coin, segregating it from the rest.

They continued opening the boxes, each time finding fake coins, and with each set of coins, one was printed with a letter. Brennan's eyes lit up when she looked at the jumbled letters, ignoring the fact that some of her team were swapping them around, mixing them into a different order. Spinning on her heel, she looked at Booth, her wordless expression telling him she knew the answer.

"What is it?"

Without answering him, her pale gaze swiveled to Cara who had, by that point, pulled a stop watch from her pocket. When the young woman met Brennan's gaze, her thumb rested on the button that would stop the timer. Brennan could feel the people behind her stop their movements, sensing she already decoded the mixed letters.

With a proud grin, Brennan nodded at the girl and spoke. "_**Congratulations**_!"

Depressing the button and noting the time, Cara rose from her chair and clapped for her team. "Well done, guys! Very, _very_ well done!" She looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each of her charges. "You all worked together _splendidly _and you'll each earn the additional points for doing so. _And_ unless I'm mistaken, I think you have broken the record for how quickly you solved the puzzle.. And that's quite impressive." Opening the door, she turned back to face the six attendees and swept her hand through the opening. "You're free for the rest of evening, so, please, enjoy yourselves."

Leaving as a group, there was an air of excitement between them. They moved out onto the patio where their convention had held the island banquet the previous evening. Gathering around one of the tables, they ordered a few appetizers to share between them. Booth opted to have a beer with Williams and Mahoney while Brennan settled for an iced tea, not really in the mood yet for alcohol. Shaw and Soto decided to order a pitcher of sangria, justifying their choice with the explanation that the conference is almost over, they might as well enjoy themselves. After a while, they were joined by other agents as they escaped their rooms, and friendly jabs and taunts turned into lighthearted bantering as the afternoon turned to evening.

Booth's phone chirped with a text message, and when he checked it, he quickly handed it to Brennan and leaned over towards her. "You wanna meet Mickey and Jeannie tonight?"

Reading the suggestion that Mickey sent to Booth, she nodded agreeably. "Yes. I enjoyed Axe Interlude. Did you?"

"Yep," he replied to her as he thumbed and answer back to his friend. "We can meet them there tonight," he waited for Mickey's reply. "They're out doing some shopping, but said they can meet us around 8:30. Sound good?"

Brennan glanced at her watch, seeing that it was just after 7:00. "Yes. I'll go upstairs and take a shower." He looked up and met Booth's eyes, noting instantly the way his pupils dilated, causing his browns to darken with desire. Suddenly flooded with the same idea, she felt her cheeks flush as one side of her lips curled upward. Dropping her volume, she spoke as she met his heated gaze and slowly licked her lips. "Would you like to join me, Agent Booth?"

"Fuck," he swore under his breath, fishing out his wallet and dropping a few bills on the table to cover their bar tab and two of the appetizers. Addressing the table, but no one in particular, he pushed back in his chair. "We're taking off. Got plans tonight." He ignored the suspecting looks a few of the more seasoned guys were flashing their way, deciding, instead, to focus on Shaw and Soto. "Great job today, ladies. I'm honored to have you on my team, both here and back at home."

Beaming at the compliment, Shaw sat straighter. "Thank you, sir. And thank you too, Dr. Brennan. You were a great leader today."

Brennan nodded in appreciation, but knew that she owed credit where credit was due. "A leader can only be as strong as her team. And we had an _exceptionally_ strong team." She flashed a small, uncertain smile to both Shaw and Soto, sensing that the less experienced agents yearned for recognition more than most. Then, before she moved away from the table, she felt inspired to say more, so turned back to the younger women. "If we can create a collaboration back in DC such as we did here, I look forward to working with you both in a professional capacity… in the future..."

Surprised at Brennan's uncharacteristically candid offer, Shaw's mouth fell open slightly as her eyes shifted back and forth between the scientist and her boss and back again. "Th-," she swallowed thickly, trying to hide her shock. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan," a smile curled her lips. "I think I speak for both of us in thanking you for the confidence…"

Brennan inhaled sharply, feeling the attention of several people looking her way and growing uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "Yes, well. We will burn that bridge when we find it." She rolled her lips between her teeth and squared her shoulders, ignoring the snickers of an unknown agent sitting somewhere behind her, who'd heard the misquoted turn of phrase. Before she could turn to confront the eavesdropping individual, Janet spoke up reassuringly.

"Personally, I'm looking forward to burning _many _bridges with you, Dr. Brennan," she declared with a smile and a sincere handshake.

Grateful to the rookie agent, Booth stepped closer to Brennan after shooting a dagger-filled glare at Smitty for laughing at his partner. Placing his hand on her lower back, he smiled at Janet and spoke softly. "You're a fine agent, Soto." He flexed his fingers against his partner's back as he addressed his subordinate. "You're gunna do just fine at the Hoover." He winked and altered the pressure of his hand and turned to look at his partner. "You ready to go, Bones?"

As they approached the elevators, Booth looked down at her with a warm smile. "That was real nice what you did back there, Bones."

"What?" She seemed surprised at his compliment.

"What you said to Shaw and Soto. That was great." His smile was filled with pride. "You've got a huge heart, Bones…"

**B/B/B/B**

Booth unlocked his door and ushered his partner into the room. Trailing close behind, he kicked the door closed and spanned his hands around her ribcage, catching her when she turned on a dime and pushed him back against the door. Slanting his mouth over hers, he relished the feeling of Brennan's body pressing his, her soft curves and feminine scent wordlessly speaking to him on a deep, primal level. When her deft, eager fingers slithered between their bodies and started unbuttoning his shirt, Booth wrapped his fingers around her wrists gently and turned their bodies, sandwiching her between himself and the wall as he raised her arms above her head.

"You," he hummed against her throat and raised his knee, resting it against her core. "You drive me crazy, Bones…" He nibbled on her earlobe and growled when she swiveled her hips, grinding herself against his thigh.

"I don't know what you mean, Booth," she breathed with a grin, turning her head to catch his lips and spreading her fingers wide as his wove between them.

Smiling into her kiss, Booth chased Brennan's tongue back into her mouth and thrust his pelvis against her lower abdomen. With a dark chuckle, he pulled back, cocking an eyebrow. "You don't _know _what I mean, huh?" In reply to her uncharacteristically coy smile, he lifted her up and carried her further into the room. "Well, we have time before we need to head out," he bit her neck gently. "Let me take this opportunity to show you…"

**Postscript A/N **

**Thanks as always for your support. I really appreciate it! It is great to know that even though our favorite show has ended, there is still interest in fan fic. **

**peace and love, my friends, **

**~jazzy **


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N Thank you all for your support and continued interest in the story. I know the show is over, and our audience has dwindled, but those of you still holding on are greatly appreciated, I promise you. I think there are still stories to tell, so as long as there's interest, I will probably keep writing until I fall in love with another show with a new cast of characters! **

**Thanks, also, for those of you who are perhaps new to my stories and/or finding my older ones - I've been seeing some new folks adding those fics to their favorites, and I appreciate it! Even though a story is finished and has been posted for a while, don't hesitate to leave a review, because as a writer I can tell you, a review is like fuel for the soul! XOXO**

**I don't usually like giving warnings in an A/N because I fear that it will give too much away too soon, but I feel that I should for this... **

**So for this chapter… Fair warning for bad, angry language, even though I know some of you will be upset at it. It's nothing worse than you'd hear on a Rated R movie (and we **_**are **_**all adults here, are we not?), but I know sometimes folks don't like our favorite characters to speak a certain way… but I felt it was warranted. And perhaps more importantly, there is more than a small hint at sexual abuse here, so if you're sensitive to it and don't want to read it, send me a message and I'll just send you a synopsis of the chapter without all the details. **

**Disclaimer: I don't know if I need to put a disclaimer all the time or not, but by now I think it's pretty obvious I don't own anything besides my story idea. Sad but true… **

When Mickey and Jean entered Axe Interlude, they scanned the room to see if their friends had arrived yet. Tugging on her husband's arm and smiling, Jean motioned to a four-top booth tucked against the wall, where a particular DC Special Agent and his partner were sitting close, their heads leaning towards each other as if just pulling back from a kiss. As they started to cross the room the couple indicated to the hostess that they were meeting friends.

Mickey chuckled and shook his head, speaking quietly. "Those two suck at keeping a secret…"

Dismissing Mickey's criticism, she shushed him. "I'm glad to see them together," she admired the handsome couple, who were far cozier than typical partners would be, betraying their truth to anyone who would take notice.

"Oh, I'm glad, too," her husband clarified. "I'm just saying that their standard _partner_-rhetoric isn't worth a shit once you see _that_." He jerked his chin at the way Booth nuzzled against Brennan's ear, as if whispering something.

"I was so worried last night. Temperance was so…" Jeannie searched for the right word. "_Distraught_."

Mickey smiled down at his wife, keeping a slow pace as they walked and he surveyed the room, not seeing any other familiar faces. "Well, based on what you told me, and if I know Booth, I'd say he overheard Temperance's cockamamie plan to break up and had to blow off some steam before coming back." He tugged her close and kissed her temple. "Word has it they were very well-behaved in their break-out sessions and worked together seamlessly in the Escape Room, so I think they're fine." Giving her a little nudge, they approached the table, finally getting the attention of Brennan and Booth. "Hi, guys. Sorry we're late."

Booth rose to his feet, extending his hand to Mickey. "Hey, no problem." Releasing his friend's grip, he kissed Jeannie on the cheek. "Glad you were able to extend your stay, so we could get together again."

After greeting Brennan, Mickey ushered Jean into the booth before he sat. "Yeah, I was happy she could stay through tomorrow." He smiled at his wife, who was already leaning closer to Brennan to speak; he was still slightly surprised at how quickly the ladies had bonded. The senior agent turned his attention back to Booth and eyed him carefully, studying his expression and spoke quietly. "Things good?"

Booth simply smiled with a single nod, letting his friend know he understood the unspoken real question. "Better than good." He raised his glass and took a drink while Mickey ordered for himself and Jean.

When his Army pal was done, Booth stole a glance at his partner and ordered refills of their same drinks. Listening for a while as Brennan regaled Jean with an in-depth story of the Escape Room, Booth rested his forearms in the table and leaned towards his friend. "Thanks again, man."

Mickey shook his head at Booth and accepted his beer from their server. "No thanks needed, Seel." They clinked glasses and turned towards the ladies, no further discussion of the previous evening necessary.

Their visit slipped by quickly, the conversations flowing as easily as the alcohol. The four made tentative plans for when Brennan visited her brother, as it was automatically assumed by everyone that Booth would be with her for the trip. Watching the younger couple interact with each other and listening to the way their dialog bounced off one another's, Mickey eyed his friend carefully and finally asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue for most of the week.

"So this," he pointed to the way Booth's arm was slung loosely across Brennan's shoulders as she leaned against his torso ever so slightly. "You're gunna make this official, right? No more of that _We're-Just-Partners_ bullshit?"

Booth glanced at Brennan, feeling her tense slightly, as if she hadn't realized how cozy they'd become. When she started to sit up straighter, he flexed his bicep, keeping her right where she was. Looking back up to Mickey, he smirked and tilted his head.

"Well, I haven't filled out any paperwork yet. And," he glanced back at Brennan before looking at Mickey again. "We still have to discuss how or when we break the news to our friends back in DC..." Taking a sip of his drink. "Honestly? It didn't actually happen until this week," he winked. "But there's already _plenty _of friggin' speculation. There has been for years."

Brennan felt her cheeks flush with a familiar heat as she chuckled. "There are betting pools, both at that Hoover and at the Jeffersonian. Maybe even one or two on the side, too. People don't think we know about them, but we do. Last I heard, the winner at the Hoover'll get an excess of five-thousand-dollars."

Jeannie almost choked on her drink. "People have been _betting_ on when you and Booth would become a couple?"

Brennan, in her typical blunt fashion, interjected immediately, "More precisely, they've been betting on when we would engage in coitus, not necessarily become a couple." Grinning, she nudged Booth with her elbow when he groaned at her choice of wording, but basically ignored him and kept talking. "It's never been a secret that I did not believe in long-term relationships. I've always approached the notion of monogamous relationships with disdain because I didn't believe that love was anything more than a chemical reaction in one's brain that results in physiological changes when responding to external stimuli."

When Booth saw two matching, _confused _expressions on their friends' faces, he offered to translate. "She thought '_love'_," he used air quotes, "was a load o'horseshit." With a cocky, smug expression, he smiled. "But once I came along, I enlightened my genius partner to the contrary."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan shook her head at his pride. "Don't be so pleased with yourself, Booth." She attempted an awkward wink at Jean, feeling playful as she lowered her volume and leaned away from her partner, speaking to just her newfound friends. "The truth is, he just kept badgering me and over the past eight years, finally battered my resolve down until I caved…"

With a happy laugh, Mickey raised a glass and toasted the man who'd gone through hell with him, yet always kept his faith and belief in good things. "Well, however it happened," he smiled, "I'm happy for you guys."

"Thanks, Mick," Booth clinked his glass and jostled Brennan. "And for the record, I couldn't have badgered her into submission if she didn't really want it… She would'a kicked my ass."

Sipping her wine, she flashed her pale eyes up at Booth, enjoying the easy banter between them. When she placed her glass back on the table, she eyed the senior agent with a serious expression.

"You're a field director, right, Mickey?" She folded her hands in front of her. "You don't think they will split up, do you?"

"Well," Mickey rolled his lips, choosing his words with care. "The DC office is quite different from mine. Cullen's a much higher ranking officer than I am, which is required in order to run that place." Feeling Booth's dark eyes watching him, he moved his attention between the partners equally. "But you two, you've got a golden track record. I know you've had a bit of a slump of late," he shrugged one shoulder, "but still, your successes are well documented. He'd be a fool to sever the partnership… _Your _successes are feathers in _his _cap," he gave Booth a knowing look. "_You_ know how that works... Besides," he settled his arm around his own date and leaned against the plush seatback. "You have the advantage of being a Contractor, Temperance. You're not an FBI Agent, nor are you on the FBI payroll. That works in your favor."

"That's a pretty fine line that we're balancing on, though, right?" Booth valued his friend's higher-ranking experience and opinion. "Any insight or potential road blocks that we should be ready for?"

Mickey shook his head casually. "Nah." He thought again, raising an eyebrow. "Don't try to hide it from Cullen, or keep it secret for long. Just be honest and let your record speak for itself." When he saw Brennan take an uneasy breath, he tilted his head. "But if you run into any problems, or you need any other support, I'd be more than happy to go to bat for you guys."

As refreshed drinks were delivered by their server, the conversation turned to lighter topics. Booth asked about Mickey and Jean's daughter, who was away at college and in turn, answered questions about Parker, laughing at some of the antics and grief the typical boy put Booth through. When the band started slowing things down, Booth eyed Brennan sideways then looked at their friends.

"Would you guys excuse us? I wanna go dance with my partner." He had taken hold of her hand beneath the table and squeezed it gently. "I really like this song…"

"Of course!" Jeannie shooed them playfully. "Go!" As the younger couple made their way to a shadowed corner of the dance floor, Jeannie winked to her husband and shimmied against him a little as they sat. "Maybe we can dance, too?"

Chuckling, Mickey slid from the bench seat and motioned for Jean to join him. "Sure thing, baby." Taking his petite wife into his arms, they remained close to the table and swayed to the pleasant rhythms while talking quietly about their upcoming week.

Brennan ran her hands along her partner's broad shoulders as he pulled her close, no longer putting up any sort of just-partners-pretense while off duty. She let Booth pull her flush against his body and hummed as his palms smoothed down the back of her dress until they settled low, just at the upper swell of her bottom.

"I really enjoy their company, Booth," she spoke softly against his jaw, inhaling his cologne lightly. "They're surprisingly easy to talk to…"

"Yeah," he kissed her temple. "They are good people. I owe a lot to Mickey…" He felt her nod against his shoulder and simply relished in the fact that they were together and that she understood him well enough that he didn't need to explain anything further. After a few quiet moments, he rubbed his jaw against her hair. "I'm glad you like them, that's important to me."

Lifting her head from his shoulder, Brennan's pale eyes searched his. "Why is that important?"

Booth shrugged one shoulder, just a little. "Well, because," he glanced over her shoulder and saw their friends dancing as well. "Mickey was a huge part of my past... instrumental in my career with the bureau. And they helped me get through some pretty tough times after I came home following my second imprisonment." He looked back down to her, getting lost in the depths of her blue-green oceans. "And _you…_" One side of his mouth curled. "You're an even more important part of my life… And to know that the people I care about also respect and like each other, that's a big deal."

Brennan pondered his explanation carefully before responding. "Your logic is sound. I just never really gave it much thought before." She glanced around them and continued speaking softly. "I suppose my own lack of experience with personal long-term relationships has impeded my consideration of such influences…"

Not sure if she was feeling inadequate or simply observational, Booth studied her expression. Concluding that she was stating a fact and nothing more, he nodded. "Yeah, well, that's OK, Bones. Being in a relationship, it's a learning experience." Sweeping one hand up her back until it settled between her shoulder blades, he reminded her of his own relationship statistics. "It's not like I've seen a lot of success in my own relationships, Bones. But I know this time, I'm doing it right."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I'm doing it with you." His toothy smile caused her to grin in response and he pulled her against him again, resting his chin on her head as she tucked in.

After several moments, and as the band was changing tunes, the Agent sighed. "You know, we're gunna have to decide how we let everyone know, Bones…"

"We don't have to make an announcement, or anything, do we?" She tilted her head up and met his warm chocolates. "Can't we just," she shrugged, "let it unfold organically?"

Nodding silently, he considered her suggestion. "Yeah, except for Cullen. Like Mickey said, I'll need to actually sit down and come clean with him. I don't want there to be any misunderstandings or suspicions that we were trying to be deceitful." When she nodded in understanding, he continued. "And you know, he'll probably make us go to Sweets for counseling again…"

She huffed. "Oh, yes, because that has always proven so _beneficial…_"

"Hey," he chuckled proudly. "That was sarcasm! And you used it right!"

"I am a constant surprise, Booth…"

Before he could reply, his phone started ringing and they stopped their dance. Pulling the cell from his pocket, Booth wrinkled his brow, nodding for them to leave the dancefloor. "Booth," he barked into the phone as they approached the table.

Brennan watched him with concern when she noted his intense attention.

"Yeah. Is she ok?" He asked the caller, looking at Brennan as he listened for a reply.

"Alright. Where are you?" He paused again, nodding even though the individual on the other end couldn't see him. "We're a few blocks from the hotel. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

Disconnecting the call, he started to extract his wallet but saw that Brennan was already covering their bar tab. When she turned to him, he met her concerned blues. "That was Shaw. You remember Cara?" He pocketed the phone, acknowledging Mickey as he and Jean joined them with concerned expressions.

Brennan nodded. "Yes, of course." The anthropologist had taken an almost instant liking to the moderator of their exercise earlier that day. The young woman was pleasant, not yet twenty years old, and had, in some way, unexpectedly reminded Brennan of a younger version of herself.

"Seems she was roughed up a bit tonight. Shaw spotted it and stepped in to help."

"What?!" Brennan was alarmed.

"What happened?" Mickey pulled his wallet out, tossing a few bills on the table to cover his and Jean's tab.

"It was one of the convention workers and," he inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring angrily. "And one of our own…"

"_Dammit_," Mickey shook his head, ushering his wife in front of him as they followed Booth and Brennan from the club.

"Where is she now?" Brennan asked as Booth hailed a cab.

"They're still at the hotel, medics are on site." He looked at his partner. "Cara was afraid to make a big deal, didn't want the local LEO's called. But she asked Shaw if we might be able to help or advise."

"An assault on hotel property is hardly our jurisdiction, Booth," Brennan argued as she slipped into the back seat of the bright yellow sedan that pulled up to the curb.

"One of our guys was involved, Bones." He let Jeannie slide into the middle of the back seat, offering the senior agent the front seat. "I'll do what I need to to _make_ it my jurisdiction."

B/B/B/B

Booth rapped loudly at the room number Shaw had given him over the phone. The door opened quickly and they were greeted by Janet Soto, inviting them in immediately, noting with surprise that they were accompanied by two other people.

"Thank you for coming, sir." She addressed her boss. "The medics are seeing to Jenny's wrist now," she nodded to the table where her friend sat, her wrist being wrapped in an ace bandage.

"Cara?" Booth nodded at Shaw as he asked Soto.

"She is in my room," she motioned to the connecting door, which they'd opened after Cara had insisted on not going to the hospital. "Agent Perotta is sitting with her."

Going immediately into the next room, Booth saw Perotta sitting next to the young woman, holding her hand gently and talking softly. Tamping down his immediate anger that someone had assaulted this young lady, he inhaled deeply, approaching soundlessly.

"Cara?" He stepped around her, his peripheral observations taking in the nervous tap of her foot and the way she was clenching the fist that wasn't between Perotta's hands. He sat, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. When she didn't, he glanced at his agent, raising an eyebrow.

Perotta leaned towards her charge and spoke quietly. "You can trust Booth, Cara…"

Turning red rimmed eyes up to the man sitting opposite from her, she felt her cheeks flame in embarrassment. "It's probably my own fault. I shouldn't have asked Jenny to bother you." She noticed his attire and felt even worse. "You were out, enjoying your evening somewhere…"

Booth knew the ashamed expression staring back at him, he had seen it plenty of times before… Young women with low self-esteem or shy personalities, thrust into the middle of a scary situation and unable to cope, taking undue responsibility on themselves.

"Cara," he spoke softly, "this is not your fault." When he saw her eyes flash in denial, he shook his head. "It's not." The agent folded his hands in front of him and eyed the girl. "Can you tell me what happened?" His eyes caught Brennan's abrupt entrance into the room through the connecting doors, and although his attention remained solely on the young conference employee, he could tell from his partner's posture and movements that she had learned something disturbing.

Cara's eyes dropped to the table as she inhaled slowly. "In the evenings, after all the conference work is done," she looked back at Booth and gingerly reclaimed her hand from Perotta. "We usually all get together, eat and drink…" She licked her lips nervously. "It's like a party most nights…" She watched as Agent Perotta stood from her chair, making room for Brennan to take her place at the table with her partner and a victim. The young girl looked at the anthropologist and smiled ruefully through teary eyes, noticing her attractive dress as well, assuming the partners had been out together when they were interrupted.

"Go ahead," Brennan said softly, encouraging the younger woman to continue her recount of events.

Keeping her eyes glued on the unusually mesmerizing blue-green orbs, she spoke again, this time directly to Brennan rather than to Booth. "I'm underage and normally I don't drink, but I've been feeling a little left out, so… I had two rum punches then I decided to call it a night when I started to feel nervous about it. Besides, I'm scheduled for the morning shift to get everything ready for tomorrow's exercise, so I was planning to make it an early night anyway..." She rolled her lips between her teeth nervously and hesitated, not really sure how to continue.

Brennan placed an open palm on the girl's shoulder in what she hoped would be construed as comfort and flashed her eyes at Booth. When she saw his approval at her demeanor, she refocused on Cara. "What happened when you left the party?"

"There's this guy… he works for the company… and he's always hitting on the girls." She shrugged one shoulder timidly. "He's older than most of us, but he's been working for them forever, so I heard he usually has his choice of which conferences to work or not work. Sometimes he drinks too much and gets obnoxious, but all the girls say he's harmless… And he's hit on me before, but then just teases me that I'm too much of a goody-goody… too much of a nerd to bother with..." She shrugged again. "Which is fine with me…"

Brennan inhaled sharply and sat straighter, feeling her blood boiling as it coursed through her veins.

"Tonight, he was drinking with other guys, though." Cara looked pleadingly at Brennan and then started speaking faster, thinking she had done something to prompt the unwanted attention. "But like I said, _normally _I don't drink, so maybe he saw me getting another rum punch and thought I'd changed…"

Reaching out to catch a tear that slipped from the corner of Cara's eye, Brennan shook her head. "You are not to accept the blame here, Cara. You did nothing wrong."

"I left the room… We were all in that big conference room that leads out onto the patio." She chose her words carefully, speaking slowly as she blindly put her trust in Brennan, all but forgetting that Booth was even in the room. "The block of rooms where I'm staying in is over there," she pointed in the general direction of the detached wing of the hotel. "Most of us are over there…"

When she saw Brennan's nod of understanding, she took another shaky breath, feeling braver than she had just moments before. "I heard the guys carrying on, but I just ignored them. I didn't know who else he was with, normally we don't mingle with other hotel guests or conference attendees, but even from a distance I could tell none of the other guys with him were our co-workers. When I got closer to that wing of the hotel and started pulling my key from my pocket, I heard footsteps approach me from behind."

She picked up her water bottle, crinkling it between her fingers before taking a shaky sip. "It was like something you see on a movie, not like something that happens in real life… Suddenly, he was standing right there in front of me while someone else grabbed my wrists and pulled my arms behind my back… I could smell the alcohol on his breath, he _reeked _of it… They pushed me into the shadows..." Another tear escaped without permission and she reached up, catching it quickly. "He," she shivered and folded her arms across her chest. "He tried to talk, his words were slurred, but he was mumbling about being _fed up being looked down on by high and mighty bitches_," she used air quotes around the words for emphasis. "And he reached out and grabbed my shirt, ripping it open and... he laughed at me… So did the guy behind me…" She dipped her chin, no longer able to meet the kind eyes of the scientist with whom she felt immediately comfortable.

Brennan's almost overwhelming desire to ease the obvious pain that the young woman was experiencing battled against her deeply-rooted need for justice. She wanted to fire off questions at Cara, to convince her to share with Booth, the names of the men who did this. Before Brennan had joined her partner at the table with the convention employee, she had spoken to Shaw, so she knew the answer already, but she needed Cara to do the telling.

Booth was proud of his partner. His chest ached with the knowledge that her compassion was driven by her own painful experiences, but there was a time not so long ago, when she would not have been so transparent to a virtual stranger. Suspicious that she knew something she hadn't shared with him yet, the special agent wanted to get to the core of the matter. He met Brennan's pale eyes, his own softening at the turmoil he saw there. With a slight, knowing nod, he turned and looked at Cara, who was still focusing intently on her hands.

"Cara?" Booth drew her attention gently. "Will you tell me who did this?" Seeing fear in her wide eyes, he was reminded of his partner and sought to soothe the young woman. "It's alright. We want to make sure this doesn't happen again."

Taking another trembling breath, Cara shifted in her seat and faced Booth fully. "Agent Shaw saw the interaction and she interjected. She was there before I realized it and made the guy behind me release my hands and put my co-worker on the ground with her knee. Agent Soto escorted me away when Agents Gray and Perotta came… And someone else, too, but I don't remember who..." She watched the handsome agent sitting across from her as his eyes flicked to Brennan and back to her.

Before Brennan could interject with what she'd learned from Shaw and advise Booth that the men were already in unofficial custody under the watchful eyes of Gray and Smitty, Cara piped up. "I don't want to press charges. That's why I didn't want the local cops called…"

"What?" Booths brow wrinkled. "Why?"

"I need this job, Agent Booth. I'm going to start taking online courses in a few weeks and I've already hammered it out with my boss to work around my class schedule, so I can work conventions during the day and focus on my classes and homework at night. I applied everywhere for months. Jobs are hard to come by when you need a certain schedule…" She sniffled, a sense of hopelessness settling over her. "I'm taking college classes on specialized scholarships and assisted tuition programs, and for one of them, there are rules that I take at least a partial load in summer semesters and full time loads on winter and spring semesters. But even though I receive the financial aid, I need to keep working, for my books, food and rent..."

Recognizing the strict scholarship stipulations and the fact that the young woman was so specific about supporting herself for these other expenses, Brennan drew the girl's attention. "You were a foster child?"

Cara's expression turned to one of surprise. "How could you possibly know that?"

"I attended college on a similar combination of scholarships." She tilted her head and smiled somewhat sadly at Cara. "And… I recognized some familiar traits in you that reminded me of myself…" She had, in fact, been drawn to Cara right away, but she hadn't realized why until that moment.

Surprised to learn that the strong, intelligent woman in front of her had once been a foster child as well, Cara studied her with a new, more critical eye. "_You_ were in the system, too?" She wondered briefly if she had subconsciously recognized something about the anthropologist when they interacted earlier in the day, as she had felt an immediate connection and trust with the scientist and her handsome partner.

Nodding, Brennan tried to gauge what the girl was thinking. "Yes. I aged-out, and because the last foster family with whom I'd been placed had no interest in assisting me beyond high school graduation, I was forced into complete self-sufficiency starting immediately upon receiving my diploma." Quickly, Brennan adapted the situation to this new common ground and she tried to reason with the young woman. "Is your need for a job with flexible hours the only thing keeping you from speaking to the local authorities and pressing charges against the men who did this to you?"

"I," Cara swallowed thickly, awash with nerves and shame. "I just can't risk it, Dr. Brennan. The job market is so competitive, and at this point, most employers have already hired for their summer shifts…"

Flicking her eyes quickly at Booth before looking back at the timid nineteen-year-old, Brennan placed her hand on Cara's shoulder. "I need to speak with my partner, will you excuse us, please?" She rose slowly, motioning wordlessly for Booth to follow her away from the table.

"Booth," Brennan whispered when they were safe speaking distance from where Cara sat. "I want to help her…"

"So do I, Bones." Booth spoke quietly and put his hands on his hips and eyed the back of the girl's head. "That's why we need to get her to talk."

Suddenly realizing that she still had information that Booth needed, Brennan folded her arms nervously across her chest. "It was Robinson…" When Booth's eyes flared and his jaw clenched, she inhaled sharply. "_And Ben_."

With a low, threatening growl, Booth fisted his hands. "Mother fuckin' sons o'bitches…"

"Listen," Brennan needed to focus on what she could do to help, not on what was already done. "I trust your judgement of people, you recognize the good in people with greater skill and speed than I can… I," she licked her lips. "I like Cara. I think she is a good person…" She tilted her head and looked up at the only man who'd ever succeeded in breaking through her barriers. "What do you think about her?"

Booth nodded, glancing between his partner and their quiet victim. "Yeah, I think she's a good kid." He shrugged one shoulder. "In fact, this afternoon, when we were in the escape room, I thought about how there was something about her that reminded me of you…. Somethin' about the way she talked, or acted… I couldn't really put my finger on it, but it made me wonder what you were like when you were that age and if you were anything like Cara..."

Brennan smiled slightly, glad that she wasn't the only one drawing comparisons and finding similarities. "Thank you. That's what I needed to hear." Without further explanation to her partner, she sidestepped around him and approached their charge, taking her seat again.

"Cara… If I can _guarantee _that you will have the necessary income to sustain you through your summer classes, and ensure that you have enough extra to enjoy yourself on your down time, would you speak to the local LEO's?"

Wrinkling her forehead, Cara looked into the pale eyes that seemed to bore into her very soul. "LEO's?"

"Law Enforcement Officers." When she saw an immediate shield come up behind Cara's eyes, the scientist fleetingly wondered if that was the look Booth always seemed to recognize in her. "I can guarantee, _without question_, that you won't have an interruption to your income…"

"How," Cara swallowed again. "How can you guarantee it?"

"Don't worry about _how_, just trust that I _will_." She reached out and placed her palm over Cara's hands, where they were folded tightly in her lap. "I didn't have anyone to help me when I was your age… Let me help you. And then you can help make sure those animals don't do this to any other unsuspecting young women." She twitched a little and wrinkled her forehead. "And by '_animals'_, I'm referring to the men who did this…" Seeing that the girl was mulling it over, Brennan leaned closer to reveal her final Ace. "I was younger and… well," she tried to find the right words. "I wasn't brave enough when this happened to me, and I didn't have anyone on my side who'd listen… And now it's too late... But it's not too late for you, Cara. Let me help you, so you can, in turn, have an active role in preventing other girls from falling victim to these men."

Allowing Brennan's plea to replay in her mind a few times, the intelligent young woman knew the logic made sense. With a hesitant nod, she rolled her lips between her teeth and raised her red-rimmed eyes up to meet Brennan's.

"Okay," she whispered hoarsely. "I'll speak to the cops."

Relieved with Cara's decision, Brennan reached out and squeezed her bicep gently. "Thank you," she replied softly. She watched Booth as he poked his head through the connecting doors to speak quickly to Shaw before moving smoothly across the room to rejoin them at the table.

The Agent re-took his seat and smiled sadly at Cara. "You're very brave, Cara. Thank you for doing this."

Her wide eyes shifted slowly between Booth and Brennan as she tried to swallow her anxiety. Swallowing thickly, she re-folded her hands and considered what would happen if the well-meaning scientist was unable to keep the promise of guaranteeing she'd be able to keep her job. The young college student knew, however, that it was the right thing to do; not only to have her own story acknowledged, but to do her part in protecting unsuspecting women in the future….

"What happens if they don't believe me?" She asked quietly, no longer meeting either pair of eyes.

"Hey," Booth responded reassuringly. "You have nothing to worry about. Like you said, Agent Shaw interrupted the incident and Agents Soto, Gray and Perotta were also present." When the girl's wide eyes looked up at him, her vulnerability obvious, he was once again reminded of his partner. Softening his gaze, he tried to reassure her. "Listen, all you have to do is tell the local authorities exactly what you told me and Dr. Brennan." Hearing a knock at the door to the neighboring room, the Special Agent knew the VBPD had arrived and he nodded at Cara. "That'll be the officers. You're gunna do great, ok?"

She nodded nervously as she heard the FBI agents she'd gotten to know this week ushering in two Virginia Beach Police Officers. Turning, she was grateful to see that one was a woman; she was dreading the idea that they might both be men, because it was such a very personal matter. Turning back to Brennan, tried to suppress her anxiety. "Will you stay?" Cara couldn't explain why she had initially felt such a strong pull to Dr. Brennan, but now that she knew they shared a somewhat common history, the connection seemed even more intense.

Flashing her eyes to Booth, she wondered what the proper etiquette would be, given that this was not an FBI case and she had no jurisdictional right to be there. Booth gave her a slight nod, his eyes soft and approving, but seemed to want to speak with her first. She moved her gaze back to Cara and assured the young woman. "Sure. Just give me a moment to speak with Booth, alright?"

Booth patted Cara on the shoulder after introductions to the local officers. "I won't keep her long," he said softly, speaking of his partner. Once he and Brennan were in the adjoining room, he looked into her eyes carefully. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes. I can understand her not wanting to be alone. Even though," she shrugged one shoulder, "even though she is _technically _an adult. She is still very young. And insecure."

Booth understood Brennan's desire to stick close to the victim, he just worried that bad memories would resurface; he still had his doubts that he knew the full story of her history with the Ledbetters. "Okay, listen," he glanced at the other people in the room, no longer caring whether or not they figured out the truth of the partners' relationship. He reached for her hand, stroking his thumb across the soft skin he found. "I'm gonna find out where Robinson and Ben are. I'll come back here and meet you, ok?"

Recognizing the dark look in his eyes, Brennan worried what Booth had planned once he found out where the men were temporarily held. "What are you going to do, Booth?"

"Don't worry." He knew she would be concerned about his intentions. "I'll behave. I just wanna talk to Gray, I know he's with them."

The scientist studied him, not quite convinced of his motives, but she wouldn't dare contradict him on this particular situation. "Alright. If you're not back when we're done, I'll meet you back upstairs."

"I'll be back before then." He leaned in and kissed her cheek, knowing full well that, from across the room, they had a small audience observing them while pretending to be preoccupied. He jerked his chin back towards the open adjoining door. "Go ahead back in, I'm sure Cara's waiting for you." He watched her square her shoulders and turn away with a determined expression, and as she disappeared into the other room, he looked at Mickey, who was still waiting. "Hey Mick, you wanna come along?"

"Hell yeah," he said, nodding to the DC agents who were sitting at the small table before addressing his wife. "We'll be back."

B/B/B/B

Booth pounded on the door and listened as Mickey warned him against doing anything stupid. "I know, I'm not gonna do anything. I just want to know what Gray saw, and to let him know that Cara's talkin' to the cops."

When Smitty opened the door, he nodded at Booth and Mickey, motioning them inside, into the unconventional _and somewhat questionable_ 'holding' room.

"Hey," Gray nodded at the men, and when Benjamin Ledbetter groaned at seeing Booth enter, Gray glared at him, shoving him back in his chair. "Shut the fuck up, you piece o'shit."

Booth looked at Ben, his ebony glare menacing, but he didn't speak to him. Instead, he turned his attention to Robinson, who was laying on the bed, apparently passed out and sporting a shiner on his left eye and dried blood on his lower lip. Swallowing a satisfied harrumph, he spoke to Marcus.

"You do that?"

Gray and Smitty both shook their heads to the negative as Marcus answered. "Nope. His buddy, Jones, did that after he saw what was going on. Dumb fucker was so sloppy drunk, I don't think he felt it before passing out into a stupor… But he'll feel it once he wakes up." Gray smirked. "He'll prob'ly feel a couple'o bruised ribs as well; Shaw nailed that asshole in the ribs, leaving him staggering and coughing for breath."

Booth nodded in approval, proud of his agents for stepping up when they spotted the girl in trouble. He flicked his gaze past Ben before looking at his colleagues again. "You guys saw it happen?"

Smitty responded first. "I didn't see it happen, the commotion drew my attention after these dicks were already dropped to the sidewalk."

"I saw it." Gray nodded. "Payton and I were sitting out by the pool having a drink. We didn't really take notice of Cara when she passed the pool, but Payton spotted Robinson staggering after this joker," he thumbed over his shoulder at Ledbetter, "and before we could stop them, they'd already started shit." Gray fisted his hands on his hips. "Shaw and Soto were passing at just the right time, heading down to the beach to take pictures," Gray leaned close, sharing a bit of unrelated information. "Soto apparently fancies herself an amateur photographer, she was saying earlier that she hopes to get a shot good enough to submit to a Nat Geo contest." He shrugged again. "No matter the reason, they were in the right place at the right time. As Payton and I ran over to the sidewalk, one of your other DC agents, one of Robinson's academy pals, I guess, Billy Jones, was suddenly there. He and a little cutie from the local field office were out for a moonlight stroll and he dropped Robinson without a second thought."

Booth was glad to know there would be clear, concise support for Cara's case. "Well, Cara is talking to the locals. I'm sure they'll be down soon, to talk to you guys and to drag these pricks down to the precinct." He moved around his former partner and approached Benjamin, forcing his hands to remain in his pockets lest he pummel the face of the asshole who dared attack a nineteen year old girl. Meeting the squirrely man's eyes, Booth narrowed his own. "This your _thing_, Ben? You get off by picking on little girls?"

"She's no minor," Ben snarled back.

Booth got in the man's face, bracing his hands against the arms of the chair. "You're what, thirty-eight, thirty-nine?" The agent clenched his jaw. "Pushing forty?" His eyes narrowed. "She's fucking _half _your age, asshole. She's a _kid_."

Ben growled. "She likes to act all high an' mighty, but she ain't… Pretends to be too good for anyone who tries to give her any kind of attention… _She was asking for it_."

That was all it took to push Booth over the edge. He grabbed the man's collar and pulled him from the chair, spitting his response. "She _is _too good for you, you mother-fucker." He tightened his grip as Mickey tried to nudge him away. "You may've gotten away with this kinda shit in the past, but I _guaran-damn-tee_ you, you're not gettin' away with it this time." Shoving the man back into the chair, Booth jerked his head to the side, cracking his neck. "And I'm gonna enjoy watching you go down…" He leaned closer again, his tone dark and threatening. "And it'd be a real shame if word got out on your cell-block that before you got caught this time, you and your old man abused kids who were placed in your home for protection… Your old man might be dead and buried, but you're still here… And _you _were old enough to know better… It's pretty fucking obvious the apple didn't fall far from the tree…"

Unsure of exactly how much Booth had learned of his past, and of what had happened just after he celebrated his eighteenth birthday, when Brennan and then a subsequent foster girl had been placed in their house, Ben Ledbetter bit the inside of his cheek. "You don't know shit," he dared to respond. "You've got no proof."

Booth chuckled darkly, leaning even closer, invading the man's personal space. "Did you know there's a _20-year_ statute of limitation on statutory rape in Illinois?" Seeing the man swallow thickly, Booth knew everything he needed to. If it wasn't Brennan, and in the back of his mind he prayed to God that it wasn't, then it was another vulnerable and unsuspecting girl. "You think about that, huh?" He stood back to his full height, allowing his imposing size to intimidate the man. With nothing more than a threatening glare, he turned around, acknowledging Mickey with an appreciative nod for having his back and helping him keep control. Turning quickly to Marcus and Smitty, he bid them good night. "Tell the locals everything you can, boys. Call me if you need me, otherwise I'll see you tomorrow." He was anxious to get back to his partner so he could offer whatever support she'd accept.

B/B/B/B

The ride upstairs was quiet and Brennan allowed herself to lean against Booth as his strong arm circled her shoulders. She blindly allowed him to usher her down the hallway until they stood before his room. Entering before him, she paused at the open connecting doors. She desperately wanted to be alone, but she didn't know if Booth would understand. Swallowing her anxiety, she turned to find her partner watching her silently.

"I," she licked her lips nervously. "I want to take a bath, Booth." He nodded, but she wasn't sure if he understood what she was saying. She inhaled slowly. "I'd like… I'd like to be alone…"

Booth was afraid this was going to happen. She was going to push him away, close herself off and shut him out. "Alright." He knew he couldn't press her, he had to let her work through whatever it was she was struggling to understand. "Just," he approached her and cupped his palms on her biceps. "Just remember that I'm here, Bones. For whatever you need."

She placed an an open hand on his chest and struggled with her own feelings. "I know. I just need… I want to be alone for a while..."

Booth searched her face and saw vulnerable pain staring back at him. Her eyes, however, they were pleading that he understand, so he tried his best and released her arms after a tender squeeze. "Yeah, okay," he said quietly, tamping down his innate desire to comfort her, but knowing that if he coddled, she'd only balk and withdraw further.

"Thank you," she whispered. Pressing up to her toes, Brennan kissed her partner's cheek. "Good night, Booth." The anthropologist hoped he would understand, because she simply couldn't verbalize her feelings.

Brennan moved through her room as if in a daze, recalling painful memories of humiliation and unwelcome advances. She drew a bath, making it as hot as she could tolerate, and sank down until the water lapped at her shoulders. The scientist finally closed her eyes, breathing in the lavender-scented steam, grateful for the complimentary bath beads provided by the hotel.

She was happy to have been able to help Cara by staying with her as she spoke to the police, but her own bad experiences with the very same perpetrator came flooding back with such a vengeance that she felt physically exhausted. Remembering that late night, twenty years earlier, only days after having been placed with the Ledbetter family, Brennan could still visualize the setting with crystal clear clarity.

_The fifteen-year-old was huddled beneath a thin blanket and tattered sheet, still scared and confused at having lost her family and everything else that made her life feel safe. She shivered, fighting the tears that seemed to have been flowing for weeks. When she heard a noise at her bedroom door, she quickly dried her face using the sleeves of her pajamas and pushed up from her pillow. _

"_Hello?"_

"_Tempe?" The door opened and her eighteen-year-old 'foster-brother' was silhouetted against the hall light. He held a heavy blanket in his hands and entered without actually being invited, closing the door behind him. "I thought you could use another blanket… this room gets pretty cold in the winter.." _

_Surprised at the offer, the young teen sat up completely, thinking that her initial instinct about Benny had been wrong. When she was first placed in the home, there was something about the older boy that made her not trust him, but here he was, offering her a blanket much as Russ would have done if he thought his little sister was cold. Daring to let a smile tug the corner of her mouth, Brennan nodded. _

"_Yes, please. I'm so cold…" _

_Benny smiled and moved closer, unfurling the blanket as he moved and draping it over the bed when he approached. "Sure, here ya go," he said, moving further up towards the head of the bed, as if intending to tuck her in for the night. Instead, he tilted his head and tugged the sheet back. "Want some company?" _

"_Huh?" Brennan's brow wrinkled as her cold fingers lost grip of the sheet's hem. _

"_You know, we can... chat…"_

"_Benny," her voice was small and timid. She shrunk away from him as he started to sit. "It's late and we have school tomorrow. We should talk tomorrow." That tiny shimmer of hope that she could trust her new 'brother' was instantly extinguished when, against her wishes, he slipped beneath the blankets and sheet, pushing her further over on her tiny mattress._

"_I'll help warm ya up, Tempe," his voice took on a dark quality as his hands were suddenly on her, pushing her pajama top up and trying to slide his hands along her chilled skin. "C'mon," he whispered harshly, "no one else needs to know…" He started to push her onto her back, shoving his leg between hers. "We can make it a nightly thing, y'know? It'll be good for both of us…" _

_Finally regaining her wits, the teenager fisted her hands and shoved them both against his chest with all her might, grunting a forceful 'NO!' as she moved. Her action caught Benny off guard and he tumbled backwards, falling off the bed and swearing as his elbow caught the corner of the stacked milk crates that formed a makeshift nightstand. _

"_What the fuck is wrong with you?" He growled as he pushed himself up. _

"_Me!?" She struggled to sit upright, having gotten tangled in her sheet. "How dare you!?" _

_Benny grabbed the thick wool blanket and ripped it from her bed. "You're nothin' but a stupid bitch, you know that? No wonder your family didn't want you! A worthless, stupid, ugly bitch!" _

_Biting back tears at his hurtful words combined with his deceitful actions, she finally launched off her mattress. "Get out of my room!" She pointed to the door, trying her best to stand tall, all the while knowing he was bigger and stronger than she. _

_Leaning close, the older boy got in her face, spitting his rebuttal. "This ain't __your_ _room, foster-girl. Don't you forget it. This is still __my_ _house, all of these rooms are __my_ _rooms. You're just here because no one else wants you." He turned on his heel, taking the extra blanket with him and slamming the door closed as he left._

_Quickly, Brennan took stock of the furnishings in her room and realized she didn't have anything she could use to block her door, making it more difficult for him to enter again. She took her winter scarf from where it hung with her coat and she fashioned a tight knot, tying it around the door knob and threading it over to the closet door, pulling it tight so that anyone trying to enter would be met with resistance. This would be how she slept every night, at least for the next several weeks, until she was dragged back to the group home in the middle of the night after Mrs. Ledbetter caught her husband spying through a peephole in the bathroom door… _

Brennan sat in the tub, her arms wrapped around her bent legs as she sobbed against her knees. The cooling water caused her skin to pucker in goosebumps and when she noticed how wrinkled her fingers had become, she knew she needed to get out of the bath. After a few deep, calming breaths, she managed to get control of her emotions again and wiped her face with a wash cloth. Draining the tub, she turned on the shower, not only to rinse, but to also allow her body to warm up again.

By the time she exited the bathroom, she was feeling slightly better, even if still a bit disoriented at so many memories flooding back over the course of just one week. Since first seeing Ben earlier in the week, she forced herself to not focus on him. But after learning that such a sweet girl as Cara was assaulted by him, she couldn't stop the onslaught of visions she'd fought so hard to forget. She was confident, however, that Ben was going to be held accountable for his actions; not only was Cara's recount to the police concise, they also took statements from the several FBI Agents who were on sight.

Expecting that Booth would be in bed, she moved quietly. She bade him good night when she left to take a bath, uncertain at that time how she felt about being close, and unsure if she could handle the proximity. But now, she longed to feel his arms around her, to fall into his strong embrace and cherish the unconditional affection he offered her. Peeking into his darkened room, she saw that his bed remained undisturbed. She turned to find him sitting in the reading chair, facing the closed sliding glass doors as another late-night thunder storm raged out over the Atlantic. Uncertain of how he'd receive her after she so abruptly wanted solitude, she walked hesitatingly towards him until he was to her immediate left.

"Hey, Bones," he said quietly, looking up at her and taking in her wet hair and red-rimmed eyes. Offering an open palm to her, Booth tugged his partner onto his lap when she slipped her hand into his. He pressed a kiss against her temple, sending a silent prayer of thanks to God that she came to him, initiating contact. "How are you feeling?" He tilted his head back when she tucked beneath his chin.

"Emotional. Exhausted." She gripped his shirt and tightened her fist, feeling him nod at her brief explanation. As his wide hand soothed up and down her back, his other hand palmed her hip and held her tight against his torso. She welcomed the now-familiar sensation of molding herself against his form, feeling her stress metaphorically melt away - not _all _of her stress, but a good portion of it - allowing her to breathe again freely.

Booth had so many questions for his partner, so many concerns for the woman he loved, but he didn't dare voice them, he didn't want to push her too soon. If there was one thing he knew about Temperance Brennan, it was that she would talk when she was ready and not a damn moment before.

Brennan hummed in appreciation of his comfort and his patience. Booth deserved to know what happened to her, even though it was difficult to remember. To some, her recollection may not seem traumatic, but to her, it was a life altering experience. It was the driving force behind her desire to learn self defense; it was the reason she reinforced the metaphorical walls she built to protect herself against untrustworthy people; it was the voice-on-a-loop that followed her through most of her young adult life, reminding her that she wasn't even good enough for her own family… But the scientist knew better now, and she knew that Booth would hold her confession safe and offer understanding, even if he could only empathize without common experience.

Un-tucking her head, she raised her face and looked at him. Her eyes searched his and found nothing by acceptance staring back at her. Rolling her lips, she moistened them before speaking.

"Ben tried to force me to have sex with him when I was living with his family." She saw his rich, warm chocolates darken with danger and she ran her fingers along his jawline, wanting to calm his anger. "He didn't succeed. But he tried…"

Clenching his molars, Booth inhaled sharply through his nose, afraid to speak.

"I knocked him on his ass," she smiled crookedly. "I was not adept at self-defense at that time, but I stood up for myself."

Tightening his arms, he crushed her to his chest, his own body vibrating in fury as he tried to control his natural instinct to go downtown, find Ben Ledbetter in his holding cell and leave him nothing more than a mass of broken, bloody bones.

Brennan could sense her partner's reaction to her revelation and knew she had to tell the story, to tell him enough about her time with the Ledbetter family that he'd understand why she was so insistent to stay with Cara and why she needed to collect her thoughts in solitude. Shifting on his lap, Brennan made herself more comfortable and patted his chest, drawing from his strength.

"I had only been with them for a few days, and it was so cold in my room…"

**Postscript A/N **

**So, now we know the truth of what an animal Ben Ledbetter has always been. We also know that given all the evidence, he will not be a nuisance to anyone again… And we took care of that rookie Robinson, too. I'm glad that Jones saw what a poor example for a human being his academy-mate was, and put enough distance between them so he wouldn't have his own reputation destroyed. **

**You all knew something happened to Brennan when she was with the Ledbetter family, you told me so in your reviews and PMs... but I hope you understand that I couldn't make it any worse than I did… I couldn't bring myself to do it. I think this would be traumatic enough for a lost fifteen-year-old to deal with… I tried to handle it as tastefully as I could...**

**Looking forward to your thoughts.**

**peace &amp; love, my friends,**

**~jazzy**


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N Welcome back!**

**Thanks for coming back for the next installment of Aggregation! **

**We are entering into the final stretch of this story, and I appreciate your support! **

**JazzyMuse has been quite naughty lately, trying to coerce me into continuing/completing some random, partial one-shots that I found buried in my writing folder. But I was stern, shaking my finger with an accompanying harsh lecture, that we need to finish this story up before doing that! Then, we can see whether or not any of those incomplete one-shots are worth salvaging!**

**I just need to say this... A couple of weeks ago, I had a question from a reader about a passage I wrote in CYSHAB. I couldn't remember specifics of what she was asking, so I had to pop over to my first multi-chapter fic to find the answer... OMG I cringed at what I read and I felt the need to apologize to any and all of you who've read that story, for the MULTITUDE of grammatical and plot errors! I extend my deepest gratitude to those of you who stuck with that story through the end and took the time to gift me with so many reviews and words of encouragement. It was the first real fan fic that I posted (_technically_ it was my second story, but I removed my first one almost immediately because it was horrible), and I was just finding my footing with these characters, but I still felt compelled to say SORRY! I truly hope that I've improved since then, but since I don't go back and read my own work once it's posted, unless someone asks me something specific, I can only hope that you good folks will let me know! I don't use a beta, so I fess up that all those errors are mine and mine alone, but I just wanted to take a moment to give you all a nod of thanks. **

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing. If I did…. Well, the show would still be on, but picked up by a cable network and the actors would be willing to do more risque scenes - and often. LOL**

Booth held Brennan sideways across his lap as she told the story of her short, but disturbing time with the Ledbetter family. He had to force himself to remain calm at more than one point of her tale and satisfied his need to protect her from the harm that was already done by holding her tighter. He was determined to remain quiet, however, not wanting to interrupt her flow once she started to open up.

As she took a shuddering breath, wrapping up her experience with the abusive family, Brennan let her head fall to Booth's comforting shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before…"

Booth pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger on the soft skin. "Don't apologize, Baby," he said quietly. "You told me when you were ready, and I understand that." Deep down, he was struggling to accept the relief he felt that she _hadn't _told him before, because if he _had _known, there was no doubt he would've laid into Ledbetter earlier that evening.

They sat quietly together, Booth rocking her gently as she came to grips with someone else knowing the long-suppressed memory. When he felt her sink further into his embrace, he knew she was coming to terms with her confession and he sent a prayer up in gratitude that she was such a strong woman. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, he craned his neck to look at her. "I'm so proud of you, Bones."

With a wrinkled brow, she raised up and looked at him. "Why? I didn't do anything exemplary..."

"I know how emotional it was for you to help Cara tonight. I can only imagine the flood of memories that came rushing back." He traced a single finger along her cheek and spoke softly. "You're amazing, Temperance, don't ever doubt that."

Running her hand along the collar of his sleep shirt, Brennan felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders simply with his support and understanding. "I… I wish to do _more _than just assure Cara's position with her current employer..."

"What do you mean?"

"Currently, she is taking a few core-classes online… Those can be taken from anywhere…"

"Yeah…"

"She doesn't have any family… She doesn't have any true ties holding her here… She stayed local only because it's all she knows…"

"What are you thinking, Bones?"

"When I was speaking with her, after she had finished her statement to the police, she indicated she has an artistic eye, is highly fascinated with ancient history and expressed an interest in the archival process used by museums to preserve important photographs and documents…" Shifting, she turned in Booth's lap so she was straddling his thighs comfortably rather than sitting sideways. Looking at him directly, she wondered if she was overstepping any societal boundaries she didn't know about, but trusted Booth would warn her if she was.

"Dr. Thorne mentioned last week that she was going to be looking for a new assistant soon, as her current subordinate is moving away. I think Cara might be a good fit…" She rolled her lips between her teeth and studied his reaction. "I know that working in Ancient American Studies might not be _exactly _where Cara's interests lie, but it would give her an introduction to the inner workings of museum archives... And she could continue to take her online classes while gaining experience…" When her partner remained silent, listening to her, she continued. "I was thinking that I could sponsor her, and assist with her application, helping ensure she gets into AmU for the fall semester..." She cleared her throat. "And there is a cozy studio apartment in my building that has been vacant for well over four months… Studios are difficult to rent in my neighborhood due to the market demographics… It's too small for a family, too casual for a professional. Most college students don't want it because of the distance from school and the noise ordinance. But it would be affordable…."

Booth let his eyes skim across her face, noting the uncertainty in her own plan and understood she was waiting for his response. His lips curled in awe of her generosity and he was once again reminded that very few people understood how warm and caring she was.

"You've really given this a lot of thought, Bones," he said quietly, tilting his head and waiting as she formulated her response.

"Well, she seems very intelligent, her vocabulary and delivery indicate a highly developed sense of self… When I asked about her grades at graduation, she said she was fifth in her class…" She shrugged. "Fifth is a respectable position at graduation from a large school…"

"And you like her." He could see right through her logical and rational excuses.

"She deserves to have a chance, Booth." She wasn't sure why his observation made her defensive…

"_And_ you simply _like _her, right, Babe?" He cupped her cheek when it flushed pink. "It's admirable, Bones. And it reminds me of just one more reason I love you so much…"

Feeling her body fill with warmth, she still felt slightly unsettled, still waiting for Booth's opinion of her plan to become clear. "So, you think it's an acceptable plan? I mean, I haven't discussed anything with Cara yet, but I would like to open some dialog with her about it…" She shrugged vulnerably. "But do you think…"

"I think it's amazing, Temperance." He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, wrapping his free arm around her waist until his hand settled on the small of her back. "I think you are amazing… And Cara is one lucky girl to have met you, despite the unfortunate circumstances that brought your commonalities to light…"

At his approval, Brennan felt metaphorically lighter and she smiled against his mouth. "Thank you," she whispered, closing the minimal distance and parting her lips at the pressure of his light insistence.

Their kiss quickly escalated and Booth swept his hands beneath her bottom, cupping her completely and pulling her closer. He wasn't sure, however, after recalling her upsetting memories, if she would be receptive to making love or not. Parting their kiss, he nipped her bottom lip gently and watched her, waiting for her pale blues to open for him. As her eyelids fluttered, he felt his breath hitch, still getting used to the fact that he was finally allowed to kiss her, to hold her, _to touch her _in ways that he'd been dreaming of for years.

He ran his wide hands up her thighs, sweeping them under her shorts and palming her hips. Meeting her warm gaze, he sensed her silent response to his unasked question and he craned his neck, nuzzling against the soft skin beneath her ear. "I love you, Bones," he whispered huskily, feeling her shiver in response as she hummed. "And I wanna show you."

"Yes," she breathed into the quiet room, surrendering to his expert ministrations.

He suckled on her earlobe, tugging it tenderly between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. When her body seemed to surge against his, he scooted forward in the chair, cradling her against him as he stood and moved over to the bed. Laying her down gently he stood back and admired her before accepting her outstretched hands and settling over her prone body, their interwoven fingers pressing into the pillow on either side of her head.

As he rained kisses all over her neck, Booth slowly moved down her body, his thick, calloused fingers trailing down the undersides of her arms, along the long length of her torso until he reached the bottom hem of her tanktop. When she started to squirm, his lips released her skin and his dark eyes looked up at her from his spot near her tummy. "Relax, Baby," he pressed a kiss just above her bellybutton. "I'm gunna take care of you. I promise."

She reached for him, beckoning him to come back up, but he grabbed her hand, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the inside of her wrist, then to her palm. Moving her hand back down to the mattress, he pressed it at her side. When an uncharacteristic whimper escaped her throat, Booth smiled, pressing another kiss to her waist as he thumbed the waistband of her shorts and panties. "I promise, Bones."

He took his time, showering his partner with countless kisses, nips and soft strokes. He discarded their clothing, hers first, then his, dropping them unceremoniously over the sides of the bed as he moved. He brought her to the edge with his fingers before easing her back from the ledge. And then again, he raised the bar with his mouth as his tongue and lips moved effortlessly over her center, tugging and sucking, until he sensed she was near the point of explosion. Decreasing the pressure, he dragged his lips up her body, taking his time and letting her body relax ever so slightly until he covered her completely, groaning in response to the way it felt when her long, silky legs wrapped themselves around his hips. His hands found hers, their fingers threading intimately and he tugged their arms up together until they were pressed into the pillow above their heads. As if they'd been making love for years, as opposed to mere days, he blindly lined himself up and slid home with a single thrust.

Brennan inhaled sharply when he stretched her, the delicious sensation reminding her that no one else had ever made her feel as decidedly feminine or made her forget how to think in coherent sentences. She moaned against his throat, her tongue peeking out to lick at his masculine skin. Meeting his rhythm, her hips rolled, encouraging him to increase their tempo as her fingers flexed between his. Without conscious thought, she let her mind slip into, as Booth once termed, _neutral_, and she simply got lost in the movements and caresses her partner bestowed upon her.

Booth picked up on her wordless request and started thrusting faster, pressing into her harder and deeper with a grunt when her heels pressed against his tailbone. "_Fuck, Bones_," he growled, opening his mouth wide over her neck. "How can it be so goddamn perfect _every _time?"

"Booth," she breathed against his ear. "So close…" She writhed with more enthusiasm, desperate to achieve the relief that had been just out of reach for the past thirty minutes. "_Please…_"

Bracing himself, he jerked harder, going deeper as he powered her deeper into the mattress. "C'mon, Bones. Come for me, baby." He nipped her throat with a hungry growl.

Before she realized it, her body spasmed in response to his command and she started trembling, her legs squeezing harder around his hips and holding him in place as her body milked him as he came apart with her, emptying everything he had into her welcoming heat.

In the aftermath, between gasping breaths and panting sighs, the partners settled side by side, their foreheads pressing together as hands wandered across sweat-slicked skin. They spoke softly and kissed tenderly, making generic plans for when they returned home. Before long, Brennan rolled over, pressing her back against Booth's chest as he spooned up behind her, his wide hand splayed across the soft curve of her belly as his other arm looped through the hollow of her neck and cradled her torso tenderly.

"I love you, Booth," she whispered, pressing a sleepy kiss to his arm.

"Mmm… Love you too, Bones," he affirmed, nuzzling his nose into her loose curls as he tightened his hold. "Get some sleep, Baby." He felt her nod slowly and knew she was already drifting. With a deep, satisfied sigh, he followed her into slumber, certain that he'd never been more content with another woman in his bed and vowed to remind her everyday how much she meant to him.

B/B/B/B

The loud knock on the door at 7:25 in the morning echoed into the bathroom as Brennan was pulling on her robe and Booth rinsed his hair under the shower.

"That's breakfast, Bones," he called out from behind the curtain. "I ordered it last night for 7:30 delivery." Moving the curtain aside just far enough to push his face through. "I guess they're a little early. Just add the tip to the receipt when you sign, will ya?" He winked and ducked back beneath the steamy water. "I'll be out in a couple minutes."

"Alright," she said and knotted the sash, unwrapping the towel from around her wet hair. "I'll have them put it on the table." Unable to resist a tiny peek, she poked her head behind the curtain and admired the rivers of soapy water running down her partner's sculpted, tan chest. With a crooked grin, she let her eyes drift lower, easily distracted by salacious thoughts until he cleared his throat, jarring her back to reality.

"You, ah, see somethin' you like, there Bones?" He asked with a cocky grin and a raised eyebrow, the shampoo now rinsed from his hair

"I, umm," she licked her lips and chuckled breathlessly as he turned off the water and grabbed the towel hanging on the rack. Another knock at the door drew her attention again. With one more sweep of her pale eyes down the long length of his body, she felt her cheeks flush. "I'll get the door." She laughed and pulled the bathroom door closed as she left the tiny tiled room, silently chastising herself at her involuntary bodily reaction to Booth's naked body.

The anthropologist took a quick cleansing breath to regain her balance and, without using the peephole, unbolted the lock. She pulled the door open, speaking before her brain caught up with her vision receptors. "Sorry for the wait, we were just-" Gripping the towel in her hands tighter, she raised wide, bright blue-green eyes to the person who was poised to knock again. "Oh… Hello..." She nearly choked.

Wrinkling his brow, Sam Cullen glanced at the number on the door, thinking he must have knocked on the wrong room. "Dr. Brennan…" He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. "I apologize. Reception told me this was Booth's room…"

Before she could reply, the bathroom door whipped opened and Booth exited with nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist. He expected their breakfast to've been delivered already and the room service steward to be gone… Instead, he was met with a stammering partner still holding the door open and a slack-jawed boss moving his eyes between the partners silently.

"Sir," his voice cracked, forcing him to clear his throat with a cough. "Sir, what um," he looked at Brennan, noting the deer-in-headlights expression, and looked back at Cullen. "I'm sorry, did...we have.. an _appointment_?"

Shaking his head, Cullen looked at Booth, ignoring the way his peripheral vision was picking up on Brennan's movements as she seemed to tie her robe tighter. "I, um," he, too, had to clear his voice, simultaneously shocked and yet _not exactly surprised_. "I tried to call your cell and it went to voicemail… And your room phone was busy…"

"Room service!" The cheerful steward brought his cart to a rolling stop just next to Cullen. Smiling, he looked between the guests as they stood in the doorway of his destination. "Did you need a third place setting sent up?"

A unanimous "_No_" resounded and Booth backed into the room, tugging Brennan's arm, while making a vague welcome motion to both the hotel employee and his boss. They filed into the room, first the man pushing the breakfast cart closely followed by Cullen, and once Booth had signed for the food, only the three of them remained.

No longer a field agent, but his skills still finely honed, Cullen noticed as he passed the open connecting door, that the bed in the darkened room was made to perfection, while the king sized mattress next to where he stood showed definite signs of occupation, confirming his immediate suspicions when Brennan answered the door. Moving his eyes between the guilty glances passing between them, he cleared his throat once again.

"As I was saying, Booth, your cell was going straight to voicemail and your room phone," he motioned to the bedside table, where one of the pillows apparently bumped into the landline set, pushing receiver from it's the cradle, "kept ringing busy…" He walked over and picked up the handset, putting it to his ear and hearing dead air. Tapping the disconnect button a few times until he heard the hotel dial tone, he then hung the receiver up and stifled a grin. "You, ah…" He tilted his head and look at Booth, who was nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other, before looking at Brennan. "Must've knocked it off the hook…"

A thick, awkward silence settled over the trio as eyes swiveled back and forth. Booth finally cleared his throat again and looked at Cullen. "What, umm, what are you doing here, sir?"

Cullen looked at his top agent incredulously. "Really, Booth? You're gunna, what, just gloss right over all _this_," he fanned his hand across the room, "and jump straight into business?" He cocked and eyebrow and shoved his hands into his pockets, almost enjoying the fidgeting partners.

Brennan eyed her partner sideways and spoke in a loud, stage whisper. "He's right, Booth, we should probably offer coffee first…" With a single finger, she pushed the coffee carafe across the tiny table in his direction, not raising her eyes to meet the FBI Director's.

"Jesus Christ," Cullen dropped his head and chuckled, staring at the toes of his shoes. "Why don't _you_ two put some clothes on, and _I'll_ pour the coffee…" He stepped closer to the table and something caught Booth's eye as he started to move out of his boss's way.

"Ahhhh," he stammered and moved quickly over to the side of the bed, nearly losing his towel in the process, and swooped down, grabbed something and fisted it tightly as he darted back upright. With wide eyes, he clamped his fingers around the towel at his waist and thrust his other hand behind his back, shooting a panicked look over Cullen's shoulder at Brennan. "Yeah, that's ahhh…" He flicked his eyes towards the foot of the bed, and then back to Cullen as he maneuvered between the older man and his partner, the hand behind his back nabbing something else that was tangled in the wad of sheets. Keeping his back to Brennan, he addressed Cullen, who was, by that time, standing in front of them. "That's a good idea… Sir…"

Not realizing how close he was to Brennan by that point, as she stood relatively frozen in place, he turned around, nearly knocking her over and pressed his fist at her as he pushed her backwards into her own room. "Get dressed, Bones," he grunted through clenched teeth and waited for her to take the items from his hands, but instead, she looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"What are you _doing_?" She whispered loudly.

"Take," he pushed his hand at her again, finally getting them into her own room, "these!" When she didn't open her hands fast enough, he groaned and threw them towards dresser just inside the opening. "Put some clothes on!" Without waiting for her to respond, he started pulling her door closed, speaking through the crack before it clicked shut. "And then get your ass back in here pronto."

Feeling slightly stunned, Brennan stood in her room for a moment, staring at the now-closed connecting door. Moving her eyes over to the dresser, she saw what her partner had tossed there and grinned. Picking up the strappy tank top and cobalt blue thong, she thought about the way Booth had slowly peeled the pajama top and panties off her body the night before. He had been so careful and gentle, taking time to worship her body in a way no man had ever done. Welcoming the heat that filled her cheeks, Brennan took the clothes and tossed them into an empty drawer, forcing herself to focus on getting dressed and re-joining Booth and Cullen, to face the metaphorical music.

Booth exited his bathroom dressed for the day in a pair of cargo shorts and a polo shirt. His boss was standing out on the balcony sweeping his eyes from side to side, taking in the beachy scene below. Tapping his fingernail on the door leading to Brennan's door, he was surprised when she opened it immediately.

Seeing the surprise on his face, Brennan shrugged innocently. "I was listening for motion, or conversation, so I knew you were ready for me…" She pushed one of the wooden chairs from her room through the door, so all three of them would be able to sit by the table.

Jerking his head towards their breakfast, he motioned her into the room, taking the chair and dragging it over to the small round table. "C'mon, let's eat and see what Cullen has to say…"

"Do you think -" her sentence was cut off as their uninvited guest turned and spotted them talking quietly.

"I didn't pour your coffees 'cause I figured they'd get cold." Cullen walked back into the room, pulling the sliding door closed and flicking the lock in place. "You've got a great view from up here," he mentioned casually. The Director accepted the proffered chair that Booth motioned to as his best team sat at a careful distance from each other, schooling their expressions cautiously.

"Yeah, umm, it's really nice at night… We can see ocean liners out on the horizon," Booth responded, pouring Brennan's coffee before filling his own cup. After another few moments of uncomfortable silence, Booth spoke up. "So I was planning to call your secretary for an appointment to see you next week, Sir…"

Barely containing a smirk, Cullen looked at his Head of Violent Crimes and nodded. "That so?" He took a drink of coffee before placing the mug back down on the table and looking at Brennan. "You should eat while they're still warm," he motioned to the stack of blueberry pancakes.

"Ahh, yeah," Booth answered, ignoring the food in front of him but nodding in agreement to Brennan. "Go ahead, Bones. Eat up." He turned back to Cullen, inhaling sharply. "So, yeah, there's something that I needed to talk to you about…"

Folding his arms across his chest, Cullen glanced between his agent and the scientist. "And just what might that be?"

Slightly frustrated that his boss was going to make him go through the whole shebang, and even more aggravated that the older man seemed to be enjoying himself, Booth tilted his head, glancing only briefly at Brennan. "Well, Bones and me," he cleared his throat. "I mean, y'know, Dr. Brennan and I," he corrected his grammar and referred to his partner by her formal title. "Well," he shrugged one shoulder and couldn't stop the upward curl that tugged at the corner of his lips. "We're together now…"

"You don't say!" Cullen feigned shock, flaring his eyes wide and moving them between the pair. "I _never_ would have guessed…". He barked in laughter and winked playfully at the scientist, who sat quietly, looking as if she was facing her angry father after being caught kissing a boy.

Brennan suddenly wrinkled her brow at the man and leaned towards Booth, speaking not-so-quietly. "I believe he is being disingenuous with this surprise…"

Booth deadpanned his eyes at the woman at his side. "Yeah, I think I got that, Bones…" He turned back to Cullen, waiting for him to finish taking a drink. Before he could speak again, his boss asked a question.

Cullen regarded the partners. "How long have you two been defying the regulations?"

"Huh?" Booth shook his head. "No, sir, you don't understand. This," he motioned between himself and Brennan, "this is new."

"You expect me to believe that? I wasn't born yesterday, Booth."

"Booth is not lying, Sam," Brennan spoke up to defend not only her partner but their relationship. "And neither am I when I tell you that Booth and I only consummated our romantic relationship this week…"

"Jesus, Bones," Booth hung his head and looked at her sideways. "_Consummated_?"

"Yes, Booth," she focused all her attention on him at that point. "_Consummate_ is a verb meaning-"

"I know what it means, Bones," he growled at her from beneath a heavy brow. "But did you have to put it that way?"

"I was trying to be socially acceptable… Would you rather I'd have clarified that you and I hadn't engaged in coitus until-"

"Stop."

Brennan shook her head. "I would think that you would be less embarrassed by the former explanation, given your Puritan upbringing and reluctance to openly discuss such activities in public…"

He shook his head, speaking quietly and completely ignoring the fact that Cullen was still in the room. "And _I'd_ have thought that by now you realized there was _nothing_ about me that's Puritan, there, Bones."

Grinning, she bit her lower lip and felt the heat emanating from his dark eyes. Suddenly challenging him, she cocked an eyebrow. "Well," she leaned towards him. "What verbiage would you like me to use, Booth? I can be quite vulgar if you'd rather…"

With that, Cullen cleared his throat loudly, shaking himself from the hypnotic interaction playing out before him.

The partners startled, bolting upright in realization that they still had company at their tiny table, muttering apologies and excuses half-heartedly as they leaned away from each other, forcing space between themselves.

"Yeah, ok," Cullen said, "so this _thing_ is new…. Alright. Still," he shrugged, "there are rules, and by entering into a personal relationship while remaining contracted as partners, you've crossed a line." Cullen had absolutely no intention in splitting up his best pair, but he couldn't resist making them squirm a little.

Straightening her spine, Brennan squared her shoulders. "I won't work with another agent, Director." Her delivery was blunt and her tone frank.

"Well, Dr. Brennan," Cullen recognized the mulish expression she wore, but maintained his stern demeanor. "You and Booth have violated protocol. Guidelines clearly prohibit personal relationships between agents within the same division unless previously approved by upper management." When he saw the scientist about to rebuke her position as a non-agent, he pressed on. "By your insistence to have an active role in all of Booth's investigations, as well as full participation in the field and interrogation, you've stepped into the role of a non-traditional agent of special circumstances." He was blowing smoke up their asses, but after years of waiting for them to get their shit together while oozing enough unfulfilled sexual tension to power the entire Hoover, he felt the need to keep pushing. "You can't have your cake and eat it too, Dr. Brennan…"

Brennan's brow creased and she glanced at Booth. "I don't know what that means."

Booth looked at his partner and inhaled patiently. "It means we can't have all the perks of a partnership and expect the rules not to apply…" He swiveled his eyes to Cullen. "Sir, I don't foresee our personal relationship negatively affecting our professional performance. Bones and me are solid…"

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Cullen eyed his agent carefully, considering his next action. "You actually expect me to believe that your romantic involvement won't create additional tension between you two? As it is, half the time I can't tell if you like each other or hate each other… Your arguments are legendary, y'know…"

"We don't argue," Brennan looked offended. "Occasionally we bicker," she raised her nose into the air.

"_Occasionally_?" Cullen flared his eyes in disbelief that she'd even try to downplay their very public explosions.

Ignoring his comment, she folded her arms across her chest. "We challenge one another when warranted, which lends to our healthy professional partnership. If we didn't provide opposing views from time to time, you wouldn't see such a successful record of closed cases in Violent Crimes."

"Time...to..._time…_" Again, Cullen eyed her carefully and parroted her words carefully.

"Bones," Booth reached over and patted her shoulder, wanting to keep her calm in the face of Cullen's challenge. This was exactly why he had wanted to meet with his boss on his own; he expected some pushback from the Director, but in the end, he was confident that they wouldn't be split up. But if she kept pushing, he worried she might say something that couldn't be taken back. Leaning towards her, he spoke quietly. "Relax."

Inhaling sharply, Brennan wrinkled her brow as her partner's calm exterior. "_Relax_?" One finely shaped eyebrow arched. "I think you should _seriously _consider Mickey's offer. I can relocate easily. UNC Charlotte has been courting me for years, they will be more than happy to have me on faculty or as a consultant… And you already know _he'll _support us if we want to transfer..."

Booth pressed his lips together, he hadn't wanted Cullen to know about the job offer Mickey had loosely extended his way; he didn't want to leave the District, he wanted to stay right where he was. Before he could say anything, his boss cleared his throat.

"Mitchell offer you a spot in his field office?" The Director was only mildly surprised. He had heard that the Charlotte SAC was retiring, and it was no secret that the Army Veteran had been the one who initially recruited Booth into the Bureau.

Meeting Cullen's gaze, Booth nodded. He respected Cullen and even more, he _liked _working for the man. Booth knew that his boss was a tough leader who expected excellence. And despite his own _relatively-frequent _transgressions in speaking up in boisterous defense of his partner around the water cooler, or threatening to knock some sense into a mouthy agent or two who'd dared disrespect the scientist, Booth knew that Cullen always had his back and overall, he protected their unconventional partnership to the nameless Suits upstairs. Swallowing thickly, Booth cleared his voice.

"Yes, sir. Agent Mitchell is retiring and had suggested that I seriously consider the possibility of transferring down to take over the field office... He, ahh," Booth folded his hands, "seems to think that I'm ready to man my own office…"

Cullen nodded, studying his top agent with interest. "And what do _you _think, Booth? You think you're ready for that next step?" He cocked an eyebrow. "There's a lot of admin involved with running a field office…"

"Well," Booth shrugged one shoulder, considering his options with care. "I don't really want to move. I mean," he flared his fingers wide as he sat back in his seat. "My kid lives only twenty minutes from my place… and the Squints…" He flicked his eyes to Brennan and then back to Cullen. "Well, I have no doubt that Bones would be brilliantly effective on her own, but we need to be honest here that the whole team is what makes us so damn successful." He breathed slowly, wishing he'd had time to properly prepare his arguments for maintaining his partnership. With another shrug, he leaned forward again, resting his forearms on the table. "Sir, I'd respectfully request that you give us the chance to prove ourselves as effective now as we have been over the better part of a decade…"

"Your successes have dropped recently…" Cullen considered what Booth was saying.

"But we're still among the highest rated, you can't say we're not." Booth wasn't backing down; he was determined to do what he needed to do in order to keep their professional relationship in tact while remaining in DC. "Yeah, I know we slumped, but even with our downturn, I'd challenge you to find another team to close as many active or cold cases as we have, and in as short a turnaround time." He met the Director's unwavering gaze, not blinking, not backing down.

Brennan could metaphorically feel the tension between the two men and something inside told her to remain quiet, despite another urge to simply speak up and blackmail the high-ranking officer into submission.

Booth knew his partner was having difficulty remaining silent, but he was grateful that she held her tongue. With nothing more than a slight lean forward, he added a final argument. "_And_, I'd challenge you to find another agent who'd work with the Jeffersonian with as much success as I've done. I dare say that if Bones follows me to North Carolina, there'll be a mass exodus of the squint-squad from the museum, and the Bureau will be left holding a contract a lab full of interns…"

Barely containing a smirk, Cullen tilted his head. "That sounds an awful lot like a threat, Booth…"

"No." He shook his head. "I'd never disrespect you or your position with a threat, Sir. I'm simply stating the truth." He folded his hands. "I like my office… I'd like to keep my office." He grinned slightly. "I'd like to stay at the Hoover. But only if Bones and I can keep working together."

Cullen's eyes moved between the partners, knowing all the while that he'd never be the one to split them up, but also thinking about the arguments he'd have to give to those higher up the food chain. "You'd have to resume regular weekly sessions with Dr. Sweets." He watched as Booth nodded, as if the agent was expecting the caveat, while Brennan's posture became somewhat defensive. "But believe me when I say that at the _first _indication that Sweets questions your abilities to separate personal from professional, we'll be scheduling a formal sit-down to examine and consider the consequences of you two."

"I do not see a benefit in meeting with Sw-" Brennan started to immediately refuse, but was quickly cut off.

"Deal." Booth spoke up. "We can do that." He turned his dark eyes at Brennan, pinning her with a glare that told her to pipe down. "We can _do _that," he addressed his partner directly, stressing his consent.

Realizing that this might be the only opportunity they have to prove themselves, Brennan swallowed her dispute and moved her eyes back to Cullen. Nodding stiffly, she breathed through her nose, calming herself. "Fine. We will meet with Sweets."

Cullen smiled, his grin reaching all the way up to his eyes. He rested his own forearms on the table and eyed them both in turn. "I'm happy for you guys." Seeing Booth's surprise, Cullen shrugged one shoulder. "What can I say? I've been pulling for you two for years…"

Booth smirked, realizing that they never really had anything to worry about with coming clean to Cullen. "Thanks." He reached for the coffee carafe, warming up his cup and suddenly feeling his appetite return. "You, ah, you want anything to eat?"

"No," Cullen replied, motioning to the table. "But you two go ahead and eat. I really just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes, that's why I came looking for you."

Booth nodded, silently agreeing to discuss whatever Cullen had in mind. He removed the stainless steel cloche dome that covered one of the plates and handed the stack of pancakes to Brennan. "Here ya go, they're still warm."

Brennan accepted the offering and moved two of the blueberry-filled patties to her dish before returning them to Booth once he fixed his own plate of eggs and bacon.

Cullen waited until they were settled and helped himself to another cup of coffee. When Booth met his eyes with a silent question, the Director cleared his voice.

"I received a call late last night." He studied both partners, knowing that Booth knew to what he was referring. "I heard about Robinson and while I'm not completely shocked after reading his file, I wanted your take on it."

Booth nodded. "I didn't trust him from the start, if I'm honest. Had a gut feeling about him." His gaze turned to Brennan to see if she wanted to offer her opinion.

Agreeing with her partner, she looked at Cullen. "He appeared to have questionable morals and thrived on the wrong kind of attention…"

"Yep." Booth agreed. "I'll admit that personally, I wanted to introduce my fist to his face on more than one occasion this week alone…" He shook his head in disgust. "The girl, Cara? She's a good kid. And what he did to her…" He huffed and looked at Brennan sideways, noting the way her shoulders had squared as she sat staring down at her plate. He reached out and cupped her knee beneath the table, offering silent support and not particularly worrying about Cullen's thoughts of the contact. "Well, let's just say from the bureau's standpoint, we're lucky it didn't go further than it did…"

Cullen leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "If you two weren't witness to the assault, how did you become involved?"

"Shaw was first to intervene, as I'm sure you've read her debrief. Cara was hesitant about speaking to local cops because she was afraid of losing her job." Booth shifted in his seat, getting more comfortable. "Bones and I were in a group exercise earlier in the day, where Cara was our moderator, and she seemed to grow pretty comfortable with us, so Shaw called me after the assault and asked if we would come talk to her."

"You were not on property?"

"No, we went out for some drinks." Booth wondered why his boss asked. "We were a couple blocks down at a jazz club we found earlier in the week."

"But you questioned Robinson and this other guy, Ledbetter, about the assault?"

"I didn't talk to Robinson. He was passed out drunk when I got to the room where Gray was keeping an eye on them." Booth licked his lips, carefully choosing his words before revealing too much about Brennan's own past with Benjamin Ledbetter. "The convention employee, though, yeah, I talked to him."

Cullen eyed his top agent knowingly. "You know he's filing a grievance against you?"

"What the fuck?!" Booth's eyes flared.

"Says you threatened him… That he _feared _for his _safety_."

Brennan eyed her partner discreetly, not having asked him about his interactions with the accused men the night before. She wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if he had threatened Ben... Even though Booth hadn't known the full extent of her experience with the Ledbetter family when he went to see the attackers, the Special Agent certainly knew enough to have inferred that their history was far from pleasant.

"_Feared_ for his goddamn _safety_?" Booth clenched his jaw and mumbled. "I'll fuckin' make him fear for his safety when I see him again…" He leaned forward and pointed his thick finger at his boss. "I'm tellin' ya, I never laid a finger on him…"

"Sam," Brennan interrupted, placing her hand on Booth's forearm, trying to keep him calm. "If Booth says he did nothing to deserve the complaint that Benjamin filed, then he _didn't_..."

Cullen narrowed his eyes. "You _know _the perp?"

Blue eyes flared. "Why…" she swallowed. "Why would you suspect that?" Her back went ramrod straight as her shoulders squared, not realizing that by referring to him by his first name, she gave clue to her familiarity with the suspect.

Cullen tilted his head, recognizing Brennan's defensive posture, but unsure what to make of it. "Tell me what you know."

"I," she inhaled slowly, filling her lungs as she considered what she should tell Cullen. "My experience with Benjamin Ledbetter is irrelevant to this case."

Booth felt his chest tighten, knowing how deeply Brennan would be affected if she had to disclose her history with her former foster family. Turning his attention back to his boss, Booth supported his partner. "She's right. Her previous experience with him doesn't enter into it."

The Deputy Director looked at his best agent, sensing there was definitely a connection between whatever reaction Booth may or may not have had to Ledbetter, and his partner. Daring Booth to challenge his seniority, Cullen folded his hands calmly. "Why don't you let me decide what is or is not relevant."

"But, sir," Booth tried to interject, but stopped when the older man raised his hand.

"Listen." His eyes swiveled between the partners. "I know you two and I understand that you're protective of each other. And this guy is _clearly _a dirt bag, but if I'm gunna keep your name clear, I need to go in knowing anything that could be used as ammo." His eyes softened when he saw the battle waging behind Brennan's eyes. "Whatever it is, I'll use discretion and maintain your confidence." While the Director hadn't been fond of the anthropologist when his most promising up-and-coming investigator first insisted on taking her into the field, the awkward woman had earned his respect, and he could even admit to liking her. He knew a little of her troubled past, understood that she depended heavily upon Booth for acceptable interactions in social settings, and despite her success in establishing an image of extreme independence, she wasn't nearly as disconnected as some people might have accused.

"This week was the first I've seen Benjamin Ledbetter since I was fifteen years old. I was temporarily placed with his family after going into the foster system." Brennan spoke monotonously, her diction prim and curt. "Once I was removed from their care, I never saw any of his family again." With a shrug of one shoulder, she raised her nose ever so slightly as her eyebrow arched. "So as you can see, my previous interaction would have no bearing whatsoever on Booth's reaction to the man and his deplorable behavior towards Cara."

Cullen digested the scientist's words, silently processing the timeline, knowing he had to make sure all his ducks were in a row, given the fact that one of his own agents was involved with this unsavory event. He knew full well that Brennan's early years in the care of the State was questionable at best. He accepted her explanation, however, as a preliminary response. If the need arose, he would nail Booth down for more specifics, but he knew to push at the moment would be futile. Licking his lips, he sat back in his seat.

"Very well, thank you, Dr. Brennan." He moved his eyes between them once again. Cullen nodded. "So, ah," he almost dreaded his next inquiry, knowing he could wait until they were back at the Hoover to debrief, but since he was there… "How's the rest of the conference been?" He had heard feedback about flaring tensions at one of the exercises.

Booth's lips struggled not to curve upward as he felt his cheeks warm. "Well, yeah, it's, umm," he glanced at Brennan then back at his boss. "It's been good. I mean, we managed to finally get our acts together…" He preferred to focus on the good parts of the conference.

They all chuckled. The awkwardness that had settled over the room when Cullen first knocked on the door fully dissipated. He reached his hand out and shook Booth's hand, reaching then to offer the same well-wishes to Brennan. "I meant what I said… I'm happy for you two." He raised his eyebrows and pointed at Booth. "You'll have your Personal Relationship Disclosure to me before the end of day on Monday, I trust?"

"You'll, uh, probl'y have it Monday morning, Sir." Booth smirked. "I filled in the paperwork a few weeks ago... I just need to complete the dates and have Bones countersign." He turned his attention to his partner with a slight shrug. "I knew it would happen… eventually..."

Brennan smiled at his certainty and felt her own cheeks blossom in mirror to his blush. "I'll sign it when we get home."

Booth wanted to assure his boss of their discretion. "We've tried to be as discreet as possible. I know there's speculation, but we have only confirmed it to Mitchell…"

Cullen knew of Booth's past with Michael Mitchell and he understood his investigator's motive in talking to his former Army comrade. He pushed up from his seat. "Ok, then, I'll see you both later." He moved towards the door. "Once I'm done dealing with Robinson, if time permits, I might stop by the convention and see what's going on."

The partners followed Cullen to the door and stopped abruptly when he turned and pinned Booth with a suddenly serious gaze. "Oh, yeah, before I forget," he said, although it was clear the man hadn't forgotten anything. "I'll expect to have a chat about the confrontation I heard happened between you and Sweets…" When he saw Booth's chest inflate in preparation for rebuke, he held up a hand. "Not now, I don't have that kind of time. But I don't want you to think I don't know…" He deadpanned his eyes. "Something tells me that's a bigger discussion…"

Knowing that his boss was right, Booth pulled back and took a calming breath. "Yeah, ok," he resigned. "I'll call Dolores on Monday and schedule some time to see you." When they were alone once again, Booth looked at his partner and smiled gently, tilting his head as he approached her. "Well, that's one notification out of the way…" He wrapped his hands around her hips and tugged her closer. "I thought we'd have a little more time to ourselves, while we figured this out back home, but whatcha gunna do when the head honcho shows up at seven-thirty in the mornin', huh?"

Placing her hands on her partner's wide shoulders, she met his gaze. "I'm sorry I answered the door without realizing it wasn't room service."

"Don't worry about it, Bones" he was resolved to accept that which he couldn't change. "At least it was him and not Sweets."

She rolled her eyes and craned her neck as he pressed an open kiss just below her ear. "Oh, can you _imagine_?" The mere idea of their psychologist finding them out before they were ready made her chuckle.

"His head would explode," Booth laughed, running his hands beneath her cotton shirt, spanning her ribs as he leaned in for a kiss. "It'd be great," he spoke against her lips, grinning when she laughed in response, falling in love with her impish side a little more, if that was even possible.

**Postscript A/N **

**Well, now Cullen knows and that's a good thing. And if Cara accepts the offers that Brennan is going to make, she will be well on her way to a solid start to a successful career and promising college education. **

**B&amp;B just need to get through their final conference day before heading home, so let's hope the day goes well! **

**Thanks so much for reading**

**peace and love, my friends, **

**~jazzy**


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